


Tattoos of Memories

by DanaWPatterson



Series: Snapshots & Tattoos [2]
Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, I'm Sorry, It's a little graphic, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-05-21 14:57:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 84,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14917520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanaWPatterson/pseuds/DanaWPatterson
Summary: A continuation of "Snapshots of You and I."Everything is different at the NYO - Weller is in the hospital, Jane is suffering from ZIP poisoning, and Tasha is gone. For Patterson, the rules of the game are changing and it's about to become high stakes.





	1. Without You

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series. You should really read "Snapshots of You and I" before this one. I mean, I'm not the boss of you or anything, but "Snapshots of You and I" sort of lays the foundation for this work. I'd been asked for more chapters in that work (and they may still come) but as I started to sketch them out, it seemed like a completely separate story (although closely related). If you really don't want to read "Snapshots of You and I" (boo!), maybe glance through Chapter 9, make sure you're up-to-date with the S3 finale, and are aware that I've made Patata canon in this series. 
> 
> I'm stepping out onto the ledge here and doing some S4 imaginings. It's a little bit of a frightening endeavor (I really, really don't want to eff this up.), and I've been doing a ton of research on the PKMzeta inhibitor zeta interacting protein (ZIP, of course) as I work on this. Your comments, input, opinions, pep talks, and kudos? They're all super welcome and appreciated more than you can ever know. You can Tweet me if you want (@danawpatterson) as I battle my way through this. Unlike my previous fics, I think this piece will take a bit more time to complete (or at least right now as I'm approaching it extremely cautiously). I'll take all the support I can get on this monster. And if you feel like telling me to give it a rest and take a hike, you can do that too. I won't take it (too) personally.

It was weird being at the NYO. There was the normal scurry of agents moving about working on various cases, but everything was all wrong. For starters, there was a new agent whose name Patterson hadn't bothered to learn yet sitting at Tasha's old desk. Patterson hated that new guy, whatever his name was. She didn't even know what his job was but it didn't matter. He was sitting in Tasha's seat. She felt like stealing his stapler.  

It wasn't so much that someone new was in Tasha's seat, it was the utter absence of the CIA agent. And Patterson felt ridiculous being so upset about Zapata's absence. They'd spent at least a year officially not dating and, up until recently, Patterson had barely even acknowledged Tasha's existence. The hardest part of it all, Patterson realized, was that they had been working at getting back on track at least as friends and they'd each admitted to still harboring deep feelings for the other. Not having Tasha around now was somehow worse than being broken up with her. Patterson didn't really know what they were anymore.  

The lights in Reade's office weren't on yet. He stopped at the hospital each morning to get an update on Weller's condition and to check in with Jane. Jane was in and out of the hospital. She was no longer confined there —the doctors saw no reason to keep her there with no treatments or cures currently available for ZIP poisoning — but she still spent most of her time there sitting next to Weller's bed. She'd only stopped into the NYO a few times, and at those times she'd seemed withdrawn and confused at best. She didn't say much and almost acted as if she didn't know any of them. Patterson thought she seemed much like she did when she first climbed out of the bag in Times Square, and she was sad for her friend.   

Patterson texted Rich as she entered her lab. They were still working on the thumb drive Roman had given Jane in Cape Town, and she needed his help to sort through the mountains of data. Of course, she wouldn't admit it to Rich, but he had proven to be helpful on more than several occasions and she was really beginning to value his contributions. A year ago, Patterson would have choked on that thought.   

She called up the drive's contents and navigated to the section on ZIP poisoning and stepped towards the oversized wall-mounted monitors to begin studying the data Roman had collected while she waited for Rich.  

"Hey Peppermint Patty," Rich said as he walked into the lab. He wiped the remains of a powdered donut from his fingers and stood next to Patterson, following her gaze to the monitors.  

"Don't call me that," Patterson replied without looking at him. 

"Someone's grumpy this morning," he said. 

"I'm not grumpy," Patterson objected. "I'm just... I just... I can't figure any of this out and I'm frustrated by it. There's so much data missing. And I want to figure it out. For Jane." 

Rich nodded. "Oh, sure. I just figured it was because your girlfriend was gone." 

Patterson crossed her arms. She turned and stared at Rich. "What are you talking about?" 

"Oh please. You and Agent Frowns-A-Lot," he said. "I'm not stupid."  

She grabbed Rich roughly by the arm and walked him away from the monitors towards the far corner of the lab where she was sure no one could overhear them. 

"What are you talking about? And think about your answer very carefully before you say something stupid," she whispered.  

Rich looked around before dropping his gaze down to the hand that still had a tight grip on his arm.  

"Ok, well first of all, ow," he said, prying her hand away. "I'm really not loving this interaction. That's a hell of a grip. Second of all, don't give me that big-eyed look. You guys have been together for like two years. Did you really expect me not to notice all the looks and touches? Kissy face in the locker room? I mean, really..." 

"How did you...? You know what? It doesn't matter," Patterson said finally, shaking her head and heading back to the monitors. It wasn't worth denying it. Rich had clearly seen them at some point. It didn't matter anyway. Tasha was gone and they weren't really together anymore.   

"Wait, you mean, I'm right?" he asked as he hurried after her. "You and whatever her name is? I knew it!" 

"Would you just shut up?" Patterson said, turning back to him. "I mean, yes, you're sort of...whatever, it doesn't matter. It's complicated. Can we just get back to the drive?" 

Rich nodded and held his hands up in surrender. "Sure, sure. As long as you can focus. I mean—" 

Patterson cut him off with a cold glare.  

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry. Touchy," he said. "Back to work. So, what are we looking at here?" 

Patterson took a deep breath. "Okay, so this is the section on ZIP poisoning that was on the drive Roman gave to Jane in Cape Town. It seems like Roman had been suffering from it for at least a year." 

"When did Jane ZIP him?" Rich asked. 

"A little more than two years ago," Patterson replied. "But the dosage was nowhere near whatever Jane was given. I mean, Roman started recovering large chunks of his memory very quickly. Jane's recovery was much slower. There's still a lot of things that she doesn't remember."   

"But she was flooded with it," Rich said. He studied one of the monitors that was displaying a complex-looking diagram illustrating how PKMzeta interacts with synapses in the brain to create long-term memories. A corresponding chart showing how ZIP interrupts the protein's process appeared just below it. "This is some serious-looking brain wave tampering. Is anyone surprised Roman was short-circuiting?" 

Patterson ran a hand through her hair and gave a groan of frustration.. "I know," she said. "And that's what's bothering me. All of this is just a little bit outside of my area. I understand what's happening and why it's happening, sort of, but I mean, Roman had some really good doctors and researchers working on figuring this out, and it looks like they don't have anything that we didn't already know."  

Rich crossed his arms and stepped back from the wall of monitors. He leaned against the counter and stared at the data. He was a hacker, not a doctor. They could stare at this data all day long but it was incomplete. Until they had the missing drives, they were driving blind. He knew this wasn't the answer Patterson was looking for but it was the only one he had. They needed to find the other drives.  

"What is that?" Jane's voice interrupted their thoughts. She stepped into the lab and her eyes immediately fixed on the charts and data on the monitors.  

Patterson scrambled to kill the image but it was too late. Jane was already standing next to her, eyes flicking from screen to screen rapidly.  

"Jane!" she began, surprised to see the tattooed woman and even more surprised to see that she looked more lucid than she had the last time she'd seen her. She creased her brow in concern and directed Jane to a nearby chair. "How are you?" 

Jane sighed and shook her head as she sat. "I'm okay, I think. I feel foggy like I've had too much to drink but I'm okay." She gestured to the monitors with her chin. "What is all that? Is that all the data from Roman's drive?" 

Rich and Patterson exchanged a glance. He held out a hand to Patterson in a gesture that seemed to say "go ahead and explain." 

"Some of it, yeah," Patterson said. "It's missing a whole bunch of information but it looks like Roman was also suffering from ZIP poisoning. We're just trying to make sense of it so we can maybe find a way to reverse it." 

Jane tore her attention away from the monitors and studied Patterson's face. "You're not telling me something," she said. "I feel like everyone is keeping something from me." 

Patterson didn't respond. She didn't feel like it was her place to tell Jane the little bit of information that she actually had.  

"Patterson," Jane pressed. "Look, for the first time in days I feel like I know what's going on around me. I'm not dizzy. I don't have any headaches. I feel normal. If you're keeping something from me, tell me. Please. You're my friend. I have to know what's happening." 

The scientist sighed and grabbed for a nearby chair. She rolled it up so she was sitting in front of Jane.  

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes. Tell me."  

Patterson hesitated.  

"Patterson. Please." 

"Okay," Patterson began and nodded to herself as if steeling herself for the explanation she was about to give. "So, when the brain stores something, a memory, it gets split up into sights, sounds, smells, emotions. And it uses a handful of chemicals that are generated in your brain in the synapses." She stopped and saw the look on Jane's face. She'd lost her already. "Let me try this another way. Your brain is sort of like a... a circuit board. Memories are stored all over the surface of the board. Sights are stored in one place and sounds in another. To recall a complete memory with sights  _and_ sounds, those pieces need to be connected through a hardwiring of sorts." 

"Synapses," Jane supplied.  

"Yes! But if you wanted to forget something, you'd need to cut the wire. That's sort of what ZIP does. In small doses. If I gave you a  _very_ small dose of ZIP and then asked you to remember a specific thing, you wouldn't be able to remember that one targeted memory. ZIP cuts that hardwiring. But in your case —" 

"It wasn't a small dose." 

"Right," Patterson agreed. "You were completely flooded with it which basically cut all the wires. None of those sights and sounds could be connected so no memories could be formed. Over time, though, they started to reconnect. We don't really know how because, frankly, ZIP is still super experimental and there's not a lot of research on it. But basically, that massive amount of ZIP shut down so much electrical activity in your brain that it's starting to... short circuit." 

"Short circuit?" Jane repeated. It came out as a question but there was no actual question. She understood what Patterson was saying perfectly. "You're saying my brain is short circuiting? What does that mean?" 

Patterson frowned and nodded slowly. Rich stepped next to Patterson. "Roman's was too," he said. "It just happened faster to him because, well, we don't really know why." 

Jane let the gravity of what they told her sink in for a minute.  

"So, what's going to happen? To me?" she asked finally.  

Patterson glanced at Rich again and he gave her the same "go on" gesture he'd given her before. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.  

"Headaches, fatigue, dizziness —" 

"I already have those," Jane interrupted. 

"Hallucinations, massive memory lapses, memory relapses, brain aneurysms... There might be others but those are the ones we know about. Or at least those are the ones Roman seemed to be experiencing from the data he collected on the drive." 

Jane looked away and seemed to consider the information for a minute.  

"Did he find a way to stop it?" 

Patterson shook her head. "Not yet. Or at least we don't think so. But this drive makes it seem like there are other drives hidden all over the world," she said. "And if they're like this one, they'll have more medical data on them for the cure he was looking for." 

"That's why he gave it to me," Jane said, suddenly understanding the final conversation she'd had with her brother. "He was trying to save me." 

"Yeah," Rich agreed. "That's sort of what it seems like." 

"But why split the drives up? Why not give me the whole thing? It's another treasure hunt. Another game," Jane said as she rubbed her temple. She felt another headache coming on.  

Patterson saw the way Jane was massaging her temple and cast a worried look at Rich. She wanted to help Jane but felt absolutely powerless. She put a hand on Jane's shoulder.  

"Don't worry," she said and gave a small smile. "We'll figure this out. But in the meantime, maybe you should go home." 

Jane stood. Patterson was right. She was no use to anyone at the NYO at the moment.  

"Yeah," she said. "You're probably right." 

*** 

Patterson spent most of the afternoon just reading through the massive amount of medical information stored on the drive until Reade came in and pulled the power cord from the monitor she'd been staring at. The afternoon had ended at some point and most of the lights had already been turned off in the lab. Patterson hadn't noticed when her team started to file out the door.  

"Hey!" Patterson cried as her screen went dark.  

"I've been calling your name for the last five minutes," Reade said. "Go home." He started to pull her chair out from her desk while she still sat in it. 

"Reade," Patterson protested. "I'm fine. I'm just going through all this data and I just need—" 

"No," Reade said. "You need to go home. You're going to burn yourself out and then you'll be of no use to anyone. Please, Patterson. Go home, have a drink, play one of your wizard games, get some sleep. Whatever you want. Just go home." 

"I'm fine, really!" 

Reade made a show of looking at his watch. It was almost 7 p.m. 

"What time did you get in this morning?"  

Patterson shook her head. "I don't know. Seven? Maybe 7:30?" 

"Go!" 

Reade followed Patterson to the locker room and watched her trade her lab coat for her purse. "You need to get a cat or something." 

"I'm never home and I'm allergic," she said with a sigh. "Why would I want a cat anyway?" 

"You have to feed a cat. And you'd have go home to do that." 

*** 

It seemed stupid that the apartment felt empty. Patterson had been living alone since California, minus that one amazing week when Tasha had shown up outside of her building. They weren't even dating anymore. Tasha hadn't spent a single overnight in this apartment. But it still felt empty. Part of that was probably because after a day like today, Patterson would have texted Tasha to come over and they would have uncorked some wine, eaten too much Thai food, and watched something horribly embarrassing like  _The Bachelor_. But Tasha was gone and so the apartment felt empty and small.  

Patterson pulled a beer from the refrigerator. She couldn't remember buying this brand. Tasha must have brought it over the last time she'd been there. That had been at least two weeks ago now. She considered putting it back in the fridge and saving it for the next time the brunette visited, but Patterson didn't know when that might be. Maybe never. She popped the cap from the bottle and took a long swallow. It was definitely Tasha's beer. Patterson wouldn't have bought it. It was too hoppy for her taste. She took another swallow and pulled a container of leftover noodles from the fridge and a fork from a nearby drawer. She didn't bother to heat the food up; she just took it to the living room and turned on her game system.  _Far Cry 5_ sounded like a good idea.  

After taking down a shrine and blowing up some Peggies' trucks, Patterson's mind began to wander. She completely missed Joseph Seed's men coming after her character and was immediately captured. She turned the game off and fell back against the couch. She stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. She wanted to talk to someone if only to empty out all of the heavy thoughts that kept intruding but she wasn't supposed to reach out to the person she wanted to talk to the most.  

Patterson got up and paced in the apartment. She turned on her computer and thought about connecting to the lab to go over the contents of the drive again but nixed that idea at the thought of Reade freaking out on her in the morning. He was remarkably easy going but she knew he meant business about her working so much. She did work too much. She freely admitted that but without work, though, Patterson wasn't sure what to do with herself. Especially now.   

She grabbed her phone and scrolled through her Twitter feed. She did the same on Instagram. She'd have checked Snapchat but the only person she Snapped with was Tasha, and she knew there was no point in looking. Tasha certainly wasn't on Snapchat right now. Her finger hovered over the text message button. She had no new messages but she wondered if there was any harm in sending a message to Tasha. To just say hi or let her know that she was thinking about her.  

_Screw it_ , Patterson thought and clicked on the message button and selected the last conversation she'd had with Tasha.  

**Hey. Your beer is disgusting.**  

She waited to see if she'd get a reply from Tasha but had no idea where she might be. It was a little after 9 p.m. in New York. It could be the middle of the night wherever Tasha was. It could even be the middle of the day. She sighed and was ready to chuck her phone back on the couch when she decided to text again.  

**Anyway, I just wanted to say hi. And I miss you. I hope you're good.**  

She tossed her phone onto the couch and got up and headed to the bedroom to change out of her work clothes. She grabbed a worn-out t-shirt and pair of lounge pants from a drawer before heading back to the kitchen for another of Tasha's beers. She had other beer in the fridge but this bottle of hoppy grossness reminded her of Tasha and she liked that even if she hated the beer. She passed in front of a mirror as she returned to the living room and caught sight of her reflection. She'd absently put on the 96th Precinct t-shirt Tasha had once left behind. The shirt had traveled with her from New York to California and back to New York. Tasha had left it behind nearly 18 months ago. Patterson ran her hand over the logo and smiled at the memory.  

Patterson's phone vibrated insistently from somewhere on the couch. She'd carelessly tossed it when she'd gotten up but didn't see it. It had to be Reade checking in to make sure she wasn't working. Or worse, calling with more bad news about Jane and Weller. She quickly searched beneath the pillows and found it. She accepted the call without glancing at the caller ID.  

"Patterson," she said.  

"Zapata," the caller replied.  

Patterson was silent for a second while she registered the caller's voice. It couldn't be Tasha. She was somewhere else in the world and wouldn't be calling. And that meant someone was calling with news about her. She dropped heavily onto the couch. Something had happened.  

"Patterson?" The caller asked. 

"Yeah," Patterson replied. "What happened to her?" 

"To who?" 

"Tasha." 

The caller didn't respond immediately.  

"Patterson, it's me," Tasha said.  

"Tash?" 

Tasha laughed on the other end of the call. "Yeah, who did you think it was?" 

Patterson was shaking her head as if Tasha could see her. "It didn't sound like you! I couldn't find my phone and I didn't look at the caller ID and I thought it was Reade," she babbled. "Oh my god, I can't believe it's you!" 

"I got your texts," Tasha said. "My beer is not disgusting." 

"Yeah, okay," Patterson replied. "It's hoppy." 

"So why are you drinking it then?" 

"It reminds me of you, and it sort of tastes like you," Patterson admitted and blushed.  

Tasha made a clucking sound with her tongue and Patterson felt her heart skip a beat. It really was Tasha. She couldn't believe how much she missed talking to her.  

"Why would you expect Reade to call?" Tasha asked. "Is everything okay?" 

"What?" Patterson asked. 

"You said, you didn't look at the caller ID and you thought it was Reade. Why would you expect Reade to call?" 

Patterson realized that Tasha had no idea what had happened since she'd left. They hadn't spoken at all since that very brief phone call.  

"You don't know," Patterson said quietly as she remembered that Tasha had been gone while everything in New York felt like it was falling apart. "I forgot, you wouldn't know what's going on."  

"Patterson, you're scaring me," Tasha said. "What's going on there? Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine," Patterson said. "It's Weller. And Jane." 

Patterson recapped everything that had happened since Tasha signed her exit paperwork that day at the NYO, ending with Jane's ZIP poisoning and the medical information that Roman had left for Jane.  

"Everything's changed," Patterson confessed finally. "Weller, Jane, you. I don't know what to do and I'm scared for Jane and Weller. This is a puzzle I might not be able to solve. And my friend is gone and I miss her. And there's some new guy sitting at  her desk. I hate him. And everything... everything... sucks." 

"Oh, P," Tasha soothed. "Don't hate the new guy. It's not his fault he's not a gorgeous brunette who's brilliant and amazing in bed." 

Patterson wasn't expecting the last comment and burst out laughing.  

"Amazing seems a bit generous, don't you think?" Patterson teased, temporarily letting herself forget how awful everything seemed.  

Tasha joined Patterson's laughter and then resumed a more serious tone.  

"I forgot about the generous part," she said. Patterson could sense the wink that most likely accompanied Tasha's statement and smiled. She sighed then.  

"I miss you so much," Patterson said.  

"Me too," Tasha replied.  

They were both silent for a long time but rather than be uncomfortable in the silence, it felt good to just listen to the other breathe on the other end of the call.  

"Where are you right now?" Patterson asked finally. "Can you even tell me?"  

"Australia," Tasha said. "It's almost noon." 

"Hmm," Patterson replied quietly. "Australia is far away. I wish you were back in New York." 

"I know." 

Patterson heard someone knocking on a door somewhere in the background. She guessed Tasha was in a hotel room, and she realized how much their lives had changed in such a short period of time. She had no idea what Tasha was doing and if she was in any kind of danger. The feeling of awfulness flooded back to her.  

"Do you have to go?" Patterson asked.  

Tasha sighed. "I'm sorry." 

"You've got to work, I get it," Patterson replied. "Hey Tash?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I love you." 

"I love you, too," Tasha said.  

Patterson heard Tasha walking towards the door and then heard it swing open, the sweep dragging on the carpet. Tasha whispered something she wasn't able to make out.  

"I have to go," Tasha said.  

"Okay." 

And then Tasha was gone. Patterson slumped back onto the couch. She didn't think it would be possible but she actually felt worse after talking to Tasha. She wanted everything back the way it was and knew that was impossible. She felt tears start to well up in her eyes and she blinked them away. There was no sense crying about it. Once again, everything was changing. She'd have to either deal with it or change with it. She wasn't sure what she would do just yet.  


	2. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remi wakes up to find herself in unfamiliar surroundings. She's missing time again and is desperate for answers. Patterson can't help but notice that something is off about the tattooed woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three might come a bit quicker but I'm positively dreading chapter four.

Remi woke up alone in the bed she shared with Kurt Weller, and for a fleeting moment she didn't know where she was. She looked around the room and spotted a framed photo on a bedside table of the couple on their wedding day and realized she was "home." But she still wasn't certain how she'd gotten there or how long she'd been there. She was missing another large block of time and all of this missing time was troubling. She got out of bed and began cautiously exploring the apartment. She stumbled upon a note left on the kitchen counter: 

 _Jane, I went out for coffee and to wander. Don't worry. I'm fine. Be back later. - Avery_  

 _Who the hell is Avery_? Remi thought as she read the note again. She'd already figured out that she'd been going by the name Jane Doe but this is the first time she'd heard of an Avery. Kurt's sister was Sarah and Taylor Shaw had been an only child. Remi had no idea who Avery could be. She left the note on the counter and continued through the apartment.  

Her phone was plugged into a charger on a table in the living room. She studied the lock screen for a moment and then drew a pattern on the screen, unlocking it on the first try. She ran through the contacts list and glanced through a short list of text messages. There was nothing there to give her a clue about what had happened and why she couldn't remember how she'd even gotten there. She set it back down and continued her tour of the apartment. Satisfied she was alone, she showered, changed, and headed out in search of the nearest store. She needed to make contact with the rest of her team. 

Remi bought two burner phones from the bodega on the corner and ripped the packaging open. She stuffed one phone in her pocket and activated and used the other immediately as she walked quickly down the street.  

"Hobbes," she said into the phone after punching in a number from memory. "It's Remi again. I've been trying to reach you. Something is happening. I'm missing a lot of time. I'm on my way to the meeting spot. I need to talk to Roman or Shepherd or Oscar. Please let them know I need to speak with them. It's urgent. I may be compromised. I don't know but something is wrong."  

She tossed the phone into a dumpster as she passed and headed towards the nearest subway entrance.  

*** 

No one showed up at the meeting spot. Remi waited for nearly two hours on a bench before finally giving up. She considered calling Hobbes again on her second burner and decided against it. She'd caught the date on the frontpage of a discarded copy of  _The New York Times_ on the subway. She'd been undercover with the FBI for almost five years. It was entirely possible that Hobbes was no longer answering the number she had been dialing. He might not even be alive. She needed answers. Instead of pulling out her phone, she returned to the subway and traveled the J line back to the Federal Plaza.  

The FBI ID card she'd found clipped to her jacket was proving to be useful. She'd simply walked through the front doors of the FBI's New York office and headed straight for the elevators. At least two guards greeted her by name as Jane. She'd offered them polite smiles, swiped her ID in the access control lock, and then boarded a nearby elevator, thumbing the number assigned for SIOC. She didn't know how she knew which floor she needed but when the doors opened, she was standing in the middle of a hub of activity.  

Remi walked through SIOC and entered Patterson's lab. The blonde was nowhere to be seen and Remi sat at one of the empty computer terminals. She entered in the login credentials for Robert Borden and an error message flashed on the screen: Employee Access Terminated. She returned to the login screen and stopped one of the techs as he passed by.  

"Woods, right?" she asked, glancing quickly at the tech's ID card.  

"Yeah," Woods replied. "What's up, Jane? How are you feeling?" 

Remi nodded and smiled. "I'm good but I'm wondering if you can help me. I need to get onto a computer to check out something on a case we're working but I can't seem to remember my login. Can you look that up for me?" 

Woods shook his head.  

"I'm not a system admin," he said. "You'd need Patterson for that. She's running a training session with some new recruits this morning. She should be back soon." 

"Oh," Remi said. She started to get up from the computer when Woods stopped her.  

"Here," he said as he reached over her and began entering his login information. "You can just log in as me for now until we can get Patterson to reset your credentials. No big deal." 

"Thanks." Woods nodded and headed back to the project he'd been working on.  

Remi hesitated at the computer's interface, taking a moment to read the menus and options before navigating to a section for searching case files. She entered her fiancé's name and hit search. A moment later Oscar's photo appeared on the screen with a few brief case notes. Beneath his name, the word "deceased" appeared in capital letters. Remi felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. It was suddenly hard to breathe, and she had to force herself to read the short write-up that appeared in his file. Her stomach dropped again when she read that she, or rather Jane, had admitted to killing Oscar after he'd killed Bethany Mayfair. She couldn't believe what she was reading. She loved Oscar, and while she knew what she'd been getting into when she'd executed the plan, she had never dreamed that something like this might happen. She sat dazed for a moment before gathering herself again and entering "Ellen Briggs" into the search field.  

The results popped up a beat later and the news wasn't much better. Shepherd was being held in an unknown location by the CIA. Most of the file was redacted — Woods didn't seem to have sufficient clearance for most the file's contents — but Remi got the gist: Shepherd was out of play as well and had been for some time.  

She entered a final name into the search field and waited for her brother's file to appear. Remi focused on the single word that appeared beneath his name in block letters: Deceased. A mixture of rage and sadness boiled up inside her as she scanned the rest of his heavily redacted file until she found the cause of death: abdominal gunshot wound from unknown assailant.  

Remi logged out of the database and stared at the blank computer screen for a moment while she tried to process the information she'd just learned. It was no wonder she was having difficulty reaching Hobbes: her team was gone and whatever might remain of it was scattered without a leader. She bit her lip. With the three central figures in her life gone, Remi felt directionless. What became of the plan if she was the only one left to execute it? Did the plan even exist anymore? She wondered if she ought to try to make contact with Parker or Cade or Markos.  

"Jane?" Patterson's voice cut through her thoughts as the scientist entered the lab. Remi didn't respond until she felt Patterson's hand drop onto her shoulder. "Jane?" 

Remi shook her head to clear her thoughts and looked up at the blonde.  

"Sorry, I guess I zoned out there for a minute," she said and glanced discretely at the ID badge clipped to the woman's belt.  _She's one of them_ , she thought, remembering a photograph with Patterson's name and biographical details tacked to a bulletin board.    

"Are you sure you're okay?" Patterson asked, concern creasing her brow. "You look like you've seen a ghost or something." 

Remi got out of the chair. "Yeah, I'm ok, Patterson," she said. "I was just waiting for you. I've forgotten my login information, and Woods said you were the one who would have to reset it for me." 

"Oh! Sure," Patterson said as she moved to her own desk. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she logged in and quickly navigated to the system admin panel. She called up Jane's system file. "Do you want to just enter in whatever password you want?"  

She stepped aside so Jane could enter a password and then saved the file again. "You should be all set," she said. "Did you need to access something in the system?" 

"Oh, um, no, not really," Remi said. Her mind raced as she tried to come up with a valid reason for needing to get into the system. "I was just going through Roman's file —" 

"I'm still working on the drive," Patterson said, cutting her off. "It'll probably be another day or so before Rich and I have something we can share with the team so we can start looking for the rest of the drives." 

 _Rich? Drives?_ Questions raced through Remi's mind but she knew she couldn't ask them without raising suspicions. All of the recon she'd done prior to climbing into that duffle bag had told her that Patterson was extremely bright. She was the last person she'd want to make suspicious.  Her face must have given something away because she suddenly found Patterson watching her carefully. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked. "You seem...off. Maybe you should be home. Do you have a headache or anything? Dizziness?" 

Remi rubbed her temple. "It's just a headache," she lied. "I should probably take something for it." 

"You should probably be home," Patterson insisted. "I mean, Jane, we all know you're tough but you're really sick. We can handle this here. Do you want me to get someone to drive you?" 

Remi nodded. She had no idea what Patterson was talking about. She didn't feel sick but she thought it might be best to just agree with the agent and get away from her as quickly as possible. The longer she stood here talking to her, the greater the risk she ran of blowing her cover.  

"No, that's okay. I can get there. But you're right. I'll, umm, I'll head out," Remi said and turned back to the elevators.  

Patterson watched Jane walk away. Something seemed different about her. She couldn't put her finger on it exactly, and she knew that Jane was suffering the serious side effects of ZIP poisoning but something was wrong. She waited until the elevator doors closed before finding Woods at his own workstation.  

"Did you give Jane your login information?" she asked, making the tech jump.  

He nodded. "Yeah, she said she couldn't remember her own, and you said she was having memory problems. She said she needed to check something out for a case so I thought I'd just let her log in as me." 

Patterson said nothing and returned to her own terminal. She accessed the system logs and looked for Woods' most recent activity. Jane had run three specific searches. Patterson considered these for a moment and twisted her lips in frustration. Why would Jane be looking up information about Shepherd, Oscar, and Roman?  _This is a weird time to brushing up on history_ , she thought. She pulled her phone from her pocket and texted Reade.  

 **We need to talk about Jane**. 

Reade's response was almost instant. 

 **Can it wait until tomorrow?**  

 **Yeah. First thing though.** **It** **'s important.**  

 **You got it.**  

*** 

Tasha had to flash her CIA badge to the building super to convince him to let her into Patterson's apartment. The $50 bill she slid into his hand probably hadn't hurt either. She stashed her suitcase out of sight in Patterson's bedroom and then wondered if by putting her luggage there, Patterson might think she was being presumptuous. She was considering hiding it behind the couch when she heard a key in the lock. She sat down quickly in an armchair that was in direct sight of the front door and crossed her legs in an attempt to look casual. Her heart was racing and it felt like it was taking up residency in her throat. Tasha had a brief moment of panic as the door started to open: what if Patterson didn't want to see her? What if she didn't want her here? She tried to push the thoughts from her mind and she tested out a smile or two before leaning back in the chair and waiting.  

Patterson opened the door and stepped inside. She kept her head down and busied herself locking it before tossing her purse absently towards the couch and heading for the kitchen. She didn't notice the brunette watching her closely from the chair.  She returned from the kitchen a moment later carrying a bottle of beer, and Tasha noticed that it was one of the ones she'd complained about when they talked earlier in the week. The faint smile that had been playing at the corners of her mouth broadened. The blonde fell onto the couch and grabbed her game controller from the charging station on the coffee table and waited for the TV and game system to start up. She brought the bottle to her lips and froze as she realized she wasn't alone in the room. 

"Hey," Tasha said. 

Patterson turned slowly to face her visitor. She set her beer bottle down and dropped the controller. Her face lit up and she practically jumped off the couch.  

"Tasha!" she cried, pulling Tasha out of the chair and into a tight, rib-crushing hug. "What are doing here?" 

"I paid off your super to let me in," Tasha said, returning the hug. She wanted to kiss Patterson but settled for a friendly peck on the cheek instead. She had to remind herself that they weren't dating anymore. Patterson may have told her that she still loved her but their relationship had been rocky over the last several months.  

"No," Patterson said, pulling away to look at Tasha. "I mean, what are you doing in New York? I thought you were in Australia." 

"I  _was_ in Australia," Tasha explained. "And then I got on an airplane and flew home. I thought —" 

Patterson looked around. "Where's your luggage? You're staying, right? I mean, you flew home. You're here." 

Tasha looked sheepish. "I, uh, I stashed it in your bedroom," she said and cringed slightly. She was unable to meet Patterson's eyes. "It doesn't mean anything. I just wasn't thinking and I didn't want the first thing you saw to be a random suitcase. I still have a place in the city. I just... I came here first." 

Patterson chewed her lip for a minute and didn’t say anything. Tasha being here was everything she'd wanted. Since she'd called her earlier in the week  _I wish Tasha was here_  and  _I miss Tasha_ kept echoing in her head. Now Tasha was here and Patterson didn't know what to do. Their relationship was so messed up. They were broken up because Tasha traveled all the time and they could barely spend any time together. Tasha had kept the world's biggest secret from her.  _She lied_ , her brain supplied. She wasn't entirely over the whole Borden is alive thing but she was done freezing Tasha out. And they'd both agreed that they still loved each other. She didn’t know where that left them.  

"I don't have to stay here," Tasha said in an attempt to fill the silence. "I should have told you that I was coming." 

"No," Patterson said. "It's okay. It's great. I just, maybe we should talk?" 

Tasha gave a single nod. "Yeah, okay."  

She sat down on the couch and Patterson hesitated before sitting beside her. Patterson picked her beer back up and took a sip to give herself a chance to gather her thoughts before turning to face Tasha.  

"I don't want to be that girl or anything, but this the most messed up relationship I have ever been in and that's saying something," she said finally and laughed before turning serious. "What are we?  Are we friends? Girlfriends? Colleagues?" 

"Well," Tasha began slowly. "I still think of you as my best friend. I mean, I know you might not think of me that way after everything that's happened but..." 

Patterson was shaking her head. She put a hand over Tasha's and looked her in the eyes.  

"You  _are_  my best friend. I've never stopped thinking of you as my best friend," she said. "That's why it hurt so much that'd you keep something like that from me." She couldn't bring herself to say Borden's name. 

Tasha squeezed Patterson's hand. She still felt awful about keeping Borden a secret for so long. At the time, it seemed like she was protecting Patterson. She now realized that Patterson didn't need anyone to protect her. She was perfectly capable of watching out for herself. What she needed was for her girlfriend to be truthful with her even when the truth might be awful or painful. 

"I'm sorry," Tasha said. "I really thought I was protecting you." 

"I never needed you to protect me, Tasha," Patterson replied. "I just needed you." 

"I know that now. And I'm so sorry." 

Patterson dropped her eyes from Tasha's and grabbed for her beer. She took another swallow. She'd said she had needed Tasha but that wasn't entirely true. It wasn't past tense. She still needed her. And it was a terrible idea. She knew that. Tasha was probably traveling more than ever now and she'd see even less of her than she had when they were dating but the prospect of seeing Tasha for just five minutes was wonderful. The prospect of being with Tasha again was intoxicating. And even when it was bad, being with Tasha was always better than not being with her. Patterson bit her lower lip and said nothing.  

"What is it?" Tasha asked, seeing the worry that had crept into the blonde's eyes.  

Patterson blew out a long breath and turned back to the other woman and promptly looked back down at her own hands.  

"I have something I want to say but you just need to let me say it," she said, glancing back up at Tasha's face. She suddenly felt very unsure of herself. She hadn't felt like this since high school. "If you interrupt me, I don't know if I'll be able to get through it." 

"Okay," Tasha said as concern started to cloud her face. "Go ahead." 

Patterson blew out another long breath. She was trying to ready herself for what she needed to say.  

"I love you," Patterson said finally after she'd let the silence spin out between them for entirely too long. She couldn't look at Tasha. She spoke while looking down at her hands.  "I'm  _in_ love with you. Still. You're my best friend, and I miss you. And this is a terrible idea because of all the reasons we broke up for in the first place, but I don't wanna be broken up with you. I know this isn't my decision to make but I wanna be your girlfriend again. Being with you makes me happy. Like happier than I thought I could be after David and... I know it's gonna suck and it's gonna be hard and I'm probably never gonna get to see you but I don't care about any of that anymore. I want to be your girlfriend even if I never get to see you and we only text. So, that's it. That's what I had to say." 

Tasha cupped Patterson's chin and lifted her head up so she could look at her face. She noticed the tears that we threatening to spill from the blonde's eyes.   

"Do you mean all of that?" she asked.  

Patterson nodded. "Yeah." 

"Can I say something now?" 

Patterson shrugged in a way that seemed to say "go ahead." She looked back down. Her hands were very interesting.  

"You're right. It's a terrible idea," Tasha said. She waited a second before continuing. She placed a hand on Patterson's cheek. "Can you look at me? Please?"  

Patterson raised her face to look at the brunette. She wished Tasha hadn't agreed that it was a terrible idea. She wanted to be anywhere but sitting on this couch. It was going to hurt so much to hear Tasha reject her.  

"It is the absolute worst idea ever," Tasha said. "But I want that, too. I love being your friend but I loved being your girlfriend more. You're the smartest, funniest, most beautiful woman I know, and I love being in love with you. But it's really gonna suck. A lot. I can't be here all the time. It's just not possible. But if you're willing to try again, I'd really like that." 

Patterson did an awful job of hiding the surprise and shock from her face. She'd been completely ready to hear Tasha tell her that their timing was off or that the heartache of not seeing each other wasn't worth the few days when they could see each other. That had been the excuse they'd given each other nearly a year earlier but Patterson recognized it now for what it had been: an excuse. The heartache of not being able to call Tasha her girlfriend was much worse than only seeing her for random, sporadic days. Tasha leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips and smiled.  

"Don't look so surprised," she said. "You know that I love you. I've never stopped loving you." 

Patterson kissed Tasha back. She'd almost forgotten how much she loved kissing her. It was, by far, her favorite thing to do. She pulled away reluctantly.  

"Does this mean what I hope it means?" 

Tasha smiled and kissed her again. "Well, I'll have to break it off with my other girlfriends, but yeah, I think so." 

Patterson slapped Tasha's arm playfully. "You're an ass," she said. 

"Yeah, but you like my ass." 


	3. Someone to Watch Over Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is part of a series, things get a little wonky here timeline-wise (sorry about that.) This chapter comes immediately following Chapter two of this work (the next morning, actually). If you've been following along with "Snapshots of You and I," this chapter fits immediately before Chapters 10 and 11. 
> 
> This is just a quick one. Chapter four might take a bit of time. It's about to get so much darker.

Patterson woke up with Tasha's naked body partially draped over her own. Their legs were intertwined and her hand was resting on Tasha's hip. She watched the steady rise and fall of Tasha's chest and smiled. It had been a long time since they'd woken up like this and she had to fight the urge to kiss Tasha awake. She cast a glance towards the alarm clock on her bedside table. It was going to go off in about two minutes. She closed her eyes again and snuggled back into Tasha's warmth.

The alarm's insistent ringing roused Tasha and she watched Patterson fumble to turn it off through half-lidded eyes.

"What time is it?" she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

"5:30," Patterson said, rolling back towards Tasha.

"In the morning?"

"Yup."

"Ugh. Why?" Tasha groaned. She wrapped her arms around Patterson and pulled her tight to her as the blonde started to sit up. "I forbid you to get up."

"I have work," Patterson said. She didn't fight and let Tasha pull her back down.

"But look what you have in your bed," Tasha protested as she scooted closer to Patterson. "Are you sure you want to go?"

Patterson chuckled. "No. I don't want to but I have to. I've got a meeting with Reade first thing. There's a lot going on right now."

Tasha placed a series of small kisses along Patterson's jaw as she spoke before capturing her mouth when the blonde finally stopped talking.

"I really do have to get up," Patterson said breaking free from the kiss but not making any moves to escape from the embrace as Tasha bit lightly on her earlobe. "I'm going to be so busy today."

"I'm busy right now," Tasha murmured as she began kissing a trail down Patterson's body. "And you're talking too much."

***

Tasha had coffee and bagels waiting in the kitchen when Patterson finally emerged from the bathroom, showered and dressed for another day at the NYO. Tasha had tossed on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and run to the coffee shop next door to pick up some breakfast for them. Now she was sitting in a chair at the kitchen table drinking coffee and eating a bagel smeared with cream cheese while scanning the morning's news headlines on her cellphone.

Patterson sat down opposite her at the table and took a long appreciative swallow of the coffee set in front of her before grabbing a bagel and tearing at it with her fingers.

"I don't know how you can eat that without cream cheese," Tasha said, barely looking up from her phone.

"What? It's good."

"No," Tasha said. "Cream cheese is good. A plain bagel with nothing on it is not."

Patterson chewed her bagel for a moment before responding.

"You have some very definite opinions on bagels."

"When they're eaten wrong I do." She set her phone down. "So, what's your meeting with Reade about?"

Patterson hesitated. This was technically FBI business, and Tasha wasn't FBI. But, on the other hand, it had to do with their friends. And it wasn't exactly classified information.

"Remember how I told you about Jane and her ZIP poisoning?" Patterson said finally. "I think it's getting worse."

She quickly relayed her most recent encounter with Jane in the lab and the searches that had been run in the case file archive.

"She seemed weird," Patterson continued. "Like, I don't think she thought I noticed but she checked my ID before calling me by name. And things that she should know —"

"Like what happened to Shepherd?"

"Yeah. I don't think she knew. She was in the case files looking up information about Oscar and Roman and Shepherd."

Tasha took a sip of her coffee and thought about this for a moment before responding.

"You said she'd have memory lapses," Tasha said finally. "Maybe that's what's happening. She couldn’t remember what happened."

Patterson nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe. But I don't think so. She didn't seem like herself. I mean, there's been a lot of days where she seems _off_. Like she's confused or not sure of herself or can't quite remember something, but this was different. It wasn't the same kind of confusion. I think she's getting worse."

"Like how?"

"I don't really know," Patterson confessed. "But Roman chronicled some of his experiences on that thumb drive he gave Jane. He was having some hardcore hallucinations and pretty big memory relapses. One minute he'd be fine and the next he didn't know where he was or what had happened, and he was talking to people who weren't there."

"Well, that's a little scary with Jane's background," Tasha said.

"Yeah. And what bothers me most are those lookups about Shepherd and Roman and Oscar. I mean why?"

"You don't think she's looking for them, do you?"

Patterson stopped sipping her coffee and set the cup down. "I didn't until you just said that. What if she's relapsing back to who she was before she came out of that bag?"

"Let's hope not."

***

Reade leaned back in his desk chair and listened while Patterson presented all of her concerns about Jane's newest memory problems. He seemed unimpressed.

"So other than Jane acting a little weird, maybe forgetting your name, and accessing the case file archive, do you have any evidence that she's relapsing?" he asked finally.

"Well, no," Patterson said. "But I don't know what kind of evidence you expect to find. I mean, just watch Jane. Something's not right there."

"She has ZIP poisoning —"

"I know. And one of the effects of ZIP poisoning is memory relapses."

"Okay," Reade said, spreading his hands in a "so what" gesture.

"Look, I'm not saying she's relapsed," Patterson said. "I'm just suggesting that we keep an eye on her. If Jane does start to have memory relapses, we don't know who she will be. If she relapses and thinks she's Remi, we might have some big problems."

Reade leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of him. Patterson typically didn't come to him with trivial things. She clearly thought this was important enough to drag him into the NYO so early.

"Let's say she's relapsing," he said. "You said she was looking up info about Shepherd and Roman and Oscar. Two of them are dead. And Shepherd is in a CIA black site. She's going to have to look for a long time to find any of them."

"I know," Patterson said. "But I'm not worried about her looking for them. I mean, go ahead. Oscar is dead. Roman is dead. We know what Remi was like before she was ZIPped. And we know that she was sent to the FBI for a reason. We've always assumed that she was here to infiltrate the team and help Shepherd launch Phase 2. What if there was something more than Phase 2? And now that she's relapsing, she's remembering what she was sent here to do."

Reade didn't respond for a minute while he considered this.

"What do you think she was sent here to do?"

"I don't know. And that's what scares me."

***

Remi stood silently in the hallway and watched the conversation through the large glass walls that surrounded Reade's office. She was just out of sight of its occupants. It was early and she hadn't expected anyone to be at the NYO yet but there was Patterson and Reade having what looked to be a very serious conversation. She couldn't hear their words but she was certain Patterson was talking about her, or rather Jane. She'd only had that one very brief interaction with Patterson the previous day but now Remi wondered if the lab rat suspected something. She thought about their conversation in the lab. Nothing about it raised any flags to her but that didn't mean anything. If Patterson was in talking to the assistant director about her, it was time for her to take the plan into her own hands. She'd gone to the FBI with one task. It was now up to her to execute it.

Starting with Patterson.


	4. Fear and Loathing in NYC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weller's back! Jane's gone full Remi! Everything is awful! (yaaaaay)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline wise, it's been a few weeks since the last chapter. If you're following along with "Snapshots of You and I," put this chapter squarely after Chapter 11 of that work. I had to change the rating on this. It gets a little bit graphic and was sort of hard to write. If you're squeamish, I'm so sorry. This also seems a bit long to me. Sorry about that as well.

Weller's return to the NYO should have been triumphant. Instead Reade immediately directed him to a desk where a stack of paperwork was waiting. The intra-abdominal abscess from the gunshot wound he suffered in Cape Town was healing after numerous marathon surgeries, and while Weller was anxious to get back out into the field, Reade wasn't about to have him running around, ripping stitches open. For once, he wanted to keep as many members of the team out of the hospital for as long as possible. But being stuck in the office all day was making Weller antsy and crazy. He felt fine. Well, fine might have been a bit of an overstatement but he was more than ready to return to work.

When he received Patterson's text, he nearly jumped out of his chair and ran to the lab. Paperwork was important but it felt like he might finally be about to do something useful. Patterson and Rich were waiting for him as soon as he walked in. The lab's monitors were displaying a series of seemingly unrelated images and text files. Reade strode in behind him.

"Got something?" Reade asked as he approached.

"Actually, we do," Patterson said, turning her tablet anxiously in her hands. "Rich and I may have found one of the missing drives."

"Where? How?" Weller asked. They had his full attention now. He wanted to recover these drives as quickly as possible. While he'd been recovering in the hospital, he'd missed out on hearing the worst of Jane's diagnosis but he'd caught the Reader's Digest version from Reade: Jane's prognosis wasn't good. Their best bet to reverse or slow the effects of the ZIP poisoning was to find the missing drives quickly and hope Roman was closer to a cure than they were.

"Can I?" Rich asked, glancing at Patterson. He stepped towards the monitors. "This was sort of fun. Roman left us this treasure map among all the tattoos, that brilliant, beautiful man. We, and by we I mean mostly me..."

Patterson cleared her throat.

"Okay, she was there too. Anyway, we noticed that the tattoos on the drive weren't just random tattoos. They all seemed to have something in common. Which, really, if you think about it —"

"Rich!" Weller interrupted. "Just tell us where the drive is."

"Patience you must have, my young Padawan."

Weller narrowed his eyes and took a step towards Rich.

"Okay! This is no time for patience! I get it. I just think—"

"Tokyo," Patterson said pulling up an image of a picturesque shrine surrounded by flowering plum trees. "It looks like he's pointing us to Tokyo. More specifically, the Yushima Tenmangu Shrine, dedicated to the god of wisdom, Michizane Sugawara. And I for sure pronounced that wrong."

"A shrine in Tokyo?" Reade repeated.

"A shrine to the god of wisdom," Rich said. "I've said it before, but that Roman was more than just a pretty face."

"Are you sure?"

"Like 75%," Patterson said. "...Ish."

Weller was shaking his head.

"It wouldn't just be out in the open and how do we know that someone hasn't already stumbled on it?"

"Well, I mean, we don't," Patterson said. She pulled up an image of a short stanza of poetry. "But I don't think it's out in the open. We also found this on the drive. I haven't quite been able to make a lot of sense of it —"

"We think you'd have to be there to actually understand it," Rich explained.

"But we think it points to a specific location or maybe another clue at or near the shrine," Patterson said, setting her tablet back down.

"Okay," Reade said. "Then we're going to Tokyo."

"When?" Weller asked. He was ready to go right now.

Reade shook his head.

"No. You're not going. There's no way I'm sending you across the world on a treasure hunt." Weller started to protest and Reade held up both hands. "I'm not arguing with you, Kurt. Unless you find a doctor who says it's okay for you to fly 14 hours and endure who knows what, I'm saying no. Same thing for Jane. I can't risk her on a plane with aneurysms. You're both staying here. Patterson, Rich. You're going. When we find that drive, I don't want to waste any time searching for the next one."

***

Remi had been watching Patterson's apartment building from the rooftop of a nearby building for the last few days, and she'd picked up on an interesting pattern: Patterson left for work every morning around 7 a.m., and a few minutes later Natasha Zapata would emerge dressed in running clothes. Zapata would return about an hour later. She'd rarely re-emerge until the next morning when the cycle would repeat. It was only when Zapata left one day and returned with an armload of groceries that Remi started to put it all together: Patterson and Zapata were roommates. The rest of the picture came together when Zapata met Patterson just outside the building one afternoon and greeted her with a more than friendly kiss before taking her hand and leading her inside.

Remi considered what she knew about Patterson and was slightly surprised. Not by Zapata, she almost expected that, but by Patterson. The intel she had from five years prior indicated that Patterson had a boyfriend. But this worked, too. Patterson had a weakness other than a cat allergy and fondness for puzzles and games. Remi filed this bit of information away. She might be able to use it later.

 _If I can't use this information, I might be able to kill two birds with one stone_ , Remi thought as she watched Zapata climb into a cab with a suitcase. She left her perch on the roof and headed towards Patterson's building. This was the opportunity she'd been waiting for: she could get a look inside the apartment and find out as much as she could about her target before moving ahead with the next step in her plan.

Her cover was almost blown when the blonde came home from work shortly after Zapata left, and Remi was forced to duck into an alleyway. She was talking on her phone to someone, and Remi wondered what had happened to prompt Patterson to leave work in the middle of the day. Everything she knew about Patterson told her that the scientist was a workaholic. Unless it was an emergency, there was no chance she'd just leave work only a few short hours after arriving. Maybe it had something to do with her girlfriend's departure. While she watched Patterson from her hiding place, she felt the vibration of Jane's phone as it rang in the pocket of her jeans. She pulled it out and checked the caller ID: Weller.

"Kurt? Is everything okay?" she asked as she attempted to channel her inner Jane Doe. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Weller replied. "I have some news that you're going to want to hear."

"What is it?"

"Patterson and Rich think they've found one of Roman's drives. It's in Japan."

Remi didn't reply immediately as she considered what Weller was telling her. She'd already figured out what the drives were about: Roman had left them behind for her with clues for curing her ZIP poisoning. Curing it would be great. It would stop the headaches, fatigue, memory loss, and weird black-out type blips where she woke up missing large chunks of time. The problem, however, was that a cure might also mean reverting back to life as Jane Doe. And that was one of the last things Remi wanted.

"Did you hear me?" Weller asked. "They think they've found the first drive."

"Yeah," Remi said. "That's great. Are we going to Japan to look for it?"

"Patterson, Rich, and Reade are going. Reade doesn't want either of us in the field yet."

"I should be there when they find the drive," Remi insisted. "What if there's something on it that I need to be there for?"

"You'll have to talk to Reade about that," Weller said. "But they're planning on leaving tomorrow night."

Remi ended the call with Weller. This pushed her timeline up a bit.

***

Tasha called Patterson as soon as she spotted Jane lurking on the roof across the street from their apartment. She'd considered approaching her but remembered Patterson's concerns: what if it wasn't Jane and it was actually Remi? A combative _Jane_ could be problematic. Tasha didn't want to think about what going up against Remi might be like. She wished she wasn't in a cab on her way to the airport. Patterson could take care of herself but Tasha didn't like the idea of Remi lurking about, if that's in fact what was happening.

Rather than wait all day wondering what Jane might be up to, Patterson told Reade she needed to run home and left the lab. She pulled her phone out as she approached her building and dialed Tasha's number. It went to voicemail but Patterson went ahead and left a detailed message. She was using the phone more as a prop to disguise her roving gaze as she scanned the nearby rooftops and the faces of every person she walked by in search of Jane. She didn't see her. She proceeded into her building and pulled her gun from its holster as she approached her door and unlocked it.

Patterson cleared each room one at a time and felt silly when she found no one inside and nothing obviously out of place. She holstered her gun and called Tasha again. The message she left this time was much shorter but she wanted to let her girlfriend know that she was inside and there was no one waiting for her. Tasha would worry otherwise. She pulled a chair up near the window but made sure to sit clear of the glass. She didn't know if Jane was still around but if she was, Patterson didn't want be caught watching the street outside of her building.

She sat for 30 minutes and saw nothing.

***

Patterson spotted Jane in SIOC as soon as she stepped off the elevator. Maybe Tasha had been mistaken and Jane hadn't been in their neighborhood at all. She seemed to be in the middle of a heated conversation with Reade. As Patterson drew closer she realized they were talking about their intended trip to Japan. Jane must have just found out she wasn't going.

"I just can't risk it, Jane," Reade said. "The elevation and pressure changes could trigger an aneurysm. Is that something you really want to risk?"

"Yes," Remi insisted. "I should be there. What if you find the drive and you need me? Then what?"

Reade sighed. "Then we'll bring the drive back to you."

Patterson put a hand on Reade's arm and stepped into their conversation.

"Reade's right," she said. "The pressurization in the cabin could trigger bleeding on your brain. And if that happens, there won't be anything we can do. It'd be better if you stayed here with Weller."

Jane shook her head. "This is ridiculous. It should be my choice."

Patterson waved Reade off and he walked away with a huff towards his office. She walked with Jane to her terminal and dragged over a nearby chair and gestured for the tattooed woman to sit.

"Look, I get it, Jane," she said softly. "But you have to understand that those aneurysms could be serious. Fatal even. If we're at 41,000 feet there won't be anything we can do if something happens. It's safer for you to stay in New York with Weller."

"What happens if you get to Japan and find the drive but you can't open it because I'm the only one who's supposed to be able to unlock it? Then what? I won't be there."

"We can call or video chat or come back," Patterson explained. "I know it seems urgent and it is, but trust us, Remi. This is the best way for us to move forward."

Patterson watched Jane's face. She'd intentionally called her Remi to watch for a reaction. There was none and red flags started going up. She pressed ahead.

"We've gone without you before" Patterson lied. "Don't you remember Cairo? It'll work out."

"Cairo," Remi repeated and nodded thoughtfully. "Right. This just feels important."

"So was Cairo," Patterson said, doubling down on her lie. "But you were just too sick to travel. We couldn't bring you and you fought us then, too. And everything worked out."

Remi said nothing as she thought about Patterson's explanation. There was no way she was going to be able to convince them to let her come along. Which meant there would be no way for her to intercept the drive. She could go to Tokyo on her own – Jane's bank account seemed flush enough – but without the data on the first drive, she wouldn't know where to begin.

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt all at once. _She called me Remi_ , she realized suddenly. _She knows_.

It was time to act. The path forward was crystal clear: tear the team apart before they could even start searching for the drive.

"Okay," Remi said with a sigh, doing her best to sound defeated yet reasonable. "Fine. I'll stay with Kurt. But if you find something —"

"We'll call," Patterson finished. When Remi started to walk away, Patterson fished her phone from her pocket and chose her most recent text conversation with Reade.

**We've got a problem. Meet me in the training room.**

**When?**

**Now.**

***

Patterson was sitting cross-legged with her back against the wall of the training room scrolling through her phone as she waited for Reade. He'd wanted evidence that Jane had relapsed and if Patterson's most recent conversation wasn't evidence of a relapse into Remi, she didn't know what else Reade would want.  

"So, this isn't weird at all," Reade said as he entered the room. "What’s up, Patterson?"  

Patterson go to her feet and pocketed her phone.  

"You wanted evidence that Jane was relapsing," she said, glancing towards the door to make sure they were alone. "After you walked away from the conversation in SIOC, I might have tested her." 

"Tested her how?" Reade asked, annoyance creasing his brow.  

"Now, before you get all upset about it, hear me out," Patterson said. "I called her Remi. She didn't even bat an eye. Didn't react. At all." 

Reade shook his head and put his hands in his pockets.  

"That’s what you dragged me down here for?" 

"There's more." 

"Go on." 

"Okay, so you know how she was insisting on going to Japan?"  

Reade nodded.  

"Yeah, well, I told her that this wasn't the first time we had to go without her. I told her about when she was super sick and couldn't travel to Cairo with us." 

"Cairo?" Reade asked. "What the hell are you talking about, Patterson? We've never been to Cairo." 

"Yeah, I know that. You know that. Jane didn't know that. She just played along like what I said made perfect sense." 

"Well, in her defense, we do that to you a lot," Reade smiled. "So, what do you think we should do?" 

Patterson shook her head.  

"That’s not my call, Mr. Assistant Director," she said. "But I'd tell Weller. He thinks he's living with Jane but he's got Remi." 

*** 

Remi was waiting in the alleyway next to Patterson's apartment for nearly an hour before she saw the blonde walking down the sidewalk. She crouched low behind a dumpster and waited until she was certain Patterson was within earshot before letting out a cry of pain.  

"Help," she called doing her best to disguise her voice. "Someone! I need help!" She waited for footsteps to approach the alley and then let out a small moan of pain. "Please. I've been stabbed." 

Patterson's footfalls came quickly down the alley and Remi saw the agent pull her gun from her holster. She passed Remi's hiding spot and scanned the alley. It was empty.  

Remi pounced then. She sprang up from her hiding place just a few steps behind Patterson and moved quickly behind the blonde. She forced a chloroform-soaked rag over Patterson's face and waited for the scientist's body to go limp. The gun clattered to the pavement from Patterson's hand. When she was certain Patterson was out, she tossed the rag into the dumpster and picked up the gun, tucking it into Patterson's bag. She wrapped an arm around her waist and walked the unconscious woman out of the alley and towards a car parked just a few feet away.  

"My friend is so drunk," Remi explained to a couple who watched her struggling to get Patterson into the backseat of the car.  "She just lost her job and drank herself into a stupor. I need to get her home. She'll be fine." 

She laid Patterson's limp body across the backseat and searched her bag for her gun and phone. She tossed them into the front seat before her hand landed on Patterson's Skeletool. She confiscated that as well and pulled a small bag of cable ties from her pocket. She attached a tie around each of the blonde's wrists and connected them with a third tie, locking her arms together. She closed the car door and went around to the front, starting the car and pulling out into the busy New York traffic. 

*** 

It was both unnecessarily bright and dark when Patterson opened her eyes. The light came from a pair of construction lights aimed at her face, and Patterson squinted her eyes against it. Turning her head to the side, however, she noticed that the rest of the room was completely dark. Someone may have been standing in the shadows but she couldn't see them.

Patterson's head was pounding and her mouth felt dry. She tried to lick her lips when she became acutely aware of the gag that had been shoved in her mouth and held in place by some kind of cloth or rope. She realized that in addition to the gag, she'd been tied to a wooden chair, her arms secured tightly at her sides. She tried to rock the chair forward in an attempt to tip it over and maybe break the chair so she could free herself. It started to fall and then abruptly was pulled back into an upright position. Something was holding the chair in place. She looked up and spotted an eyebolt with a thick piece of steel cable running through it.

A sudden flood of terror washed over her then. She had no idea where she was or how she'd gotten there. She blinked into the bright light and spotted a cell phone mounted on a tripod aimed in her direction. The terror turned into panic. This situation was hauntingly familiar. She screamed around the gag in an attempt to call for help. The sound was muffled and she was sure no one outside of the room would be able to hear her. She screamed again. Tears flooded down her cheeks, and she pulled on the restraints holding her to the chair again.

"Stop that," Jane's voice demanded from somewhere in the shadows. "No one can hear you, and you're only going to hurt yourself."

"Jane!" Patterson yelled around the gag. "Help!"

Remi stepped out of the shadows and walked around to face Patterson. She pulled the gag away and kicked at one of the chair legs. She laughed as the chair started to fall over and then snapped back into place. A smile crept onto her face at Patterson's fear.

"Hey," she said quietly as she crouched in front of her captive. "Patterson, it's okay. Don't look so scared. I'm going to help get you out of here. You're not going to die." She stood back up and turned away when she saw the distrust creep into Patterson's face. "At least not yet anyway. You're too important."

Patterson shivered. Jane sounded so much like Shepherd had sounded that day with Borden. She squeezed her eyes closed tightly and flashed on a brief memory of entering the alleyway near her apartment. Someone had been calling for help. Patterson cursed herself then. No one had been calling for help. It'd been a trap. And she'd fallen for it. Tasha was right. Remi _had_ been lurking. She'd been waiting for her.

"What do you want, Remi?" Patterson asked, summoning up her courage.

"No, Patterson. You have it all wrong," Remi said, her voice still calm and level. "It's me, Jane. You know me. I'm here to help you but you'll have to help me too."

"You're not Jane."

"Fine," Remi said, dropping the act. "It doesn't matter. But you're going to help me. Starting by telling me all about that drive you've been working on."

Patterson said nothing. Her mind was racing. This couldn't possibly be just about the drives. Jane, or Remi, had been in the lab with her when she and Rich had been going through the data. They'd shared some of that information with Jane. There was some ulterior motive here. The drive was just a distraction.

"You know about the drive," Patterson said. "You've seen the drive. It has tattoo data and information about ZIP poisoning. Are you that stupid that you'd kidnap a federal agent to ask questions about something you already know about? Jane isn't that stupid. But I guess maybe Remi is."

Frustration got the better of Remi. She slammed her open hand across Patterson's face, driving the woman's lips into her teeth. She felt a slight trickle of blood when she pulled her hand away and saw the split that had formed on Patterson's lower lip.

She pulled Patterson's Skeletool from her jacket pocket and opened it casually, inspecting each of the tools. She studied the knife blade for a moment before settling on the pliers. She held the tool in front of Patterson's face.

"I really like this," she said appreciatively of the pocketknife. "It's light and surprisingly compact for all that it can do." She crouched in front of Patterson again and showed her the pliers. "But I bet it would really hurt if used for the wrong reasons. And I don't want to hurt you. I just need you to answer some questions, and then you're going to record a short little video so all of your friends can run in here and rescue you. That's it. And then you can go home and pretend none of this ever happened."

Patterson didn't say anything. Her gaze was fixed on her pocketknife now being wielded by Remi.

Remi grabbed Patterson's right hand and put the head of the pliers over her index finger. She slowly lowered the jaws down just until they started to bite into Patterson's skin.

"So, what do you say?" she asked with a smile. "What's on the drive?"

"Fuck you," Patterson replied, spitting in Remi's face. "I'm not telling you anything and I'm not recording any video."

"Wrong answer," Remi said. She applied more pressure with the pliers. "It's going to be awfully hard to type with broken fingers, don't you think?"

She didn't wait for Patterson's reply. She slammed her full weight onto the pliers and let them bite down on Patterson's index finger. She turned the pliers violently and heard the bone crack. Patterson screamed in pain.

"Don't be a hero. What's on the drive, Patterson?" Remi asked. Her voice was still calm and level. She took the pliers off Patterson's broken finger and moved it to her middle finger. She lowered the jaws once again until they bit into Patterson's flesh and a trickle of blood appeared.

"Details about Phase 2," Patterson lied. "Pictures of the tattoos you were too afraid to leave on your body."

Remi shook her head. "Wrong answer."

She closed the pliers down again and twisted. Another crack and another scream from Patterson. Remi got to her feet again and stepped away.

"You know," she began. "For someone so smart, you're the one being stupid. Tell me what I want to know and this stops. You just have to talk to me. Tell me what's on the drive. Tell me about the FBI's plans once they have all the pieces. We're friends, Patterson. It's just me, Jane."

"You're not Jane," Patterson said. She closed her eyes as a new wave of pain raced up her arm from her mangled fingers. "You're a fucking monster."

The Skeletool was back in Remi's hand, the knife blade out. She whipped it quickly across Patterson's cheek leaving a two-inch slash across her pale skin. Blood immediately started to mix with the blonde's tears and trail down her face.

"Okay," Remi said, turning in a slow circle in front of Patterson. "I'm going to make this easier to for you. How's that? What are you hoping to find in Japan?"

Patterson rolled her eyes. The cut on her face burned and her fingers throbbed but this was absolutely ridiculous. She tasted blood.

"You know this!" Patterson yelled. "Roman gave you the drive in Cape Town. Part of it contains information about your tattoos. You designed the damn tattoos yourself! The rest of the drive contains information about ZIP poisoning. That's it!"

"Stop lying!" Remi yelled. She kicked the chair again. As Patterson lurched forward in the chair, Remi took another swipe at the blonde's face with the knife blade and cut a slice down Patterson's cheek to the corner of her mouth, just below the other cut. The steel cable through the eyebolt forced Patterson backwards and Remi brought the blade down again, slicing a small slash across Patterson's forearm.

"I'm not lying," Patterson said as the knife came down on her forearm again, adding another small slash above the other.

"What about Japan? What do you hope to find?"

Patterson didn't respond at first. The cuts on her face burned and the new cuts on her arm stung like crazy. It was the throbbing in her fingers, however, that was taking most of her attention.

"Hello Kitty, sushi, enlightenment. Pick one!" Patterson said. "There are multiple drives, Remi. We're looking to find the rest."

"Why?"

"Your brother was collecting information on ZIP poisoning. He was suffering from it too," Patterson explained. Another wave of pain surged up her arm. "We think he was trying to cure it. We can use that information to cure you."

Remi didn't respond. She turned away from Patterson and headed back into the shadows. Patterson heard her footsteps get quieter as she walked away.

"Is this why you kidnapped me?" Patterson called after her. "To get information you could have just asked me in the lab?"

The construction lights flicked off and Patterson was left in the dark. She had no sense of how much time passed when the lights flickered on again. The blood that had been running down her face had begun to clot and her face felt stiff and sticky. The throbbing in her hand had subsided slightly. Her fingers were still badly mangled and swollen but the pain was manageable. The sound of wheels squeaking drew her attention and Patterson frantically searched the room, her eyes desperately trying to reacclimate to the sudden brightness. She blinked a few times and Remi was back in front of her pushing a small wheeled table.

She heard a scraping sound as Remi dragged something on the concrete floor. Patterson tried to look for it but Remi grabbed her around the neck and forced her to look back up.

"Did you know that my entire family is dead?" Remi asked, as she circled around Patterson. "My brother, my fiancé, my mother? All gone."

Patterson didn't think. She just responded.

"Technically, Shepherd isn't dead," she said. "She's being held by the CIA."

Remi's movements were so quick Patterson couldn't even track them. The metal pipe she'd been dragging made fast connection with Patterson's right knee and she howled in pain. She tried to lurch forward but the rope that bound her to the chair wouldn't let her. Spots of darkness swirled behind her eyes and she felt like she could be sick.

"Like I said," Remi said calmly, "for someone so smart, you're not very bright. Save your smart comments. Let me ask you something else. Who killed Roman? Was it Jane?"

Patterson couldn't even form words to answer the question. The pain in her knee was so intense it was all she could think about. Remi flicked open Patterson's Skeletool again and selected the pliers. She put them over the index finger on Patterson's uninjured hand and applied some pressure.

"Who. Killed. Roman?"

"I don't know!" Patterson cried as the pliers bit into her finger. "Honest. We don't know. Jane found him under a tree in South Africa. He'd already been shot."

Remi said nothing and pushed down harder on the pliers. Blood trickled from the broken skin of Patterson's finger.

"I don't believe you." She closed the pliers again and twisted until she heard the bone crack.

Patterson had to fight back bile as it rose in her throat.

"When did you figure it out?" Remi asked suddenly. She was crouching in front of Patterson again and had traded the Skeletool for an electric drill.

"Figure what out?" Patterson asked as she bit back a moan of pain as Remi put a hand on her leg.

"That your dear friend Jane Doe was no more." The question seemed sincere.

Patterson realized that had to be what this was about. The drive was secondary. This was all because Remi had figured out that Patterson knew she'd relapsed.

"Today," Patterson replied. "I called you Remi and you didn't act like I'd called you the wrong name."

"Hmmm," Remi said as she stood back up. "I thought it was sooner. Who did you tell?"

"No one," Patterson lied.

Remi seemed to sense the lie and she pulled the trigger on the drill, the bit swirling to life as she held it close to Patterson's ear.

"Drills are funny," Remi mused. "They're obviously meant to put holes in things. Wood mainly. But you could use them on drywall or bone. The problem with things like fabric though is that the drill bit is spinning so quickly that it just grabs loose threads and pulls." She moved the drill closer to Patterson's hair and the blonde tried to move away from it. "If it got caught in your hair, that would probably hurt like hell. Do you want to try your answer again? Who did you tell?"

"Reade."

"What about Zapata?" Remi asked. She bent over and whispered into Patterson's ear. "I know that you're fucking her. That you eat her pussy and thank her when she comes on your face. I'll bet your friends don't even know."

Patterson felt her neck flush in embarrassment, and she shook her head rapidly. "No. She doesn't know. They don't know."

Remi pulled the drill's trigger again, much more lightly than before and it slowly started to turn. She let it catch a piece of Patterson's hair and she watched it catch on the bit and wind tight.

"I swear," Patterson said. She was aware of the pleading tone in her voice and didn't care. She'd endured Shepherd's torture but she was convinced that Remi was far and beyond worse than her mother.

The drill stopped spinning then and Remi pulled the bit roughly from Patterson's hair, tearing the few strands from her scalp. It could have been much worse, and Patterson was relieved to see her set the drill back down. Remi stood up again and kicked the chair leg. She laughed as Patterson fell forward and screamed as her weight fell on her ruined knee. The chair snapped back into its upright position and Remi put a booted foot on Patterson's right hand, getting a moan of pain from the blonde.

"I guess that's good enough," Remi said then. "It's time to become a movie star, Patterson. Are you ready for your close-up?"

She walked over to the phone and turned it to video mode before walking back over next to Patterson. The blonde had gone pale and the cuts on her face and arm had once again begun to bleed. Remi grabbed the Skeletool from the table and opened it again, selecting the knife. She held it under Patterson's chin.

"Hey," she said as she stuck the tip of the blade harder into the soft flesh. "Why don't you tell Reade and Weller what's going on. I think it's time for them to stage a valiant rescue attempt."

Patterson tried to spit at Remi but couldn't generate the saliva. Remi brought her hand down across Patterson's face again, causing the split on her lip to begin bleeding again. She held the knife below Patterson's right eye.

"Try it again, sweetheart," she said.

"Weller, Reade," Patterson began, "I have no idea where I am."

Remi turned to face the phone on the tripod, pulling the knife away from Patterson's face.

"Hi honey, it's your wife," Remi said with a smile before she burst into laughter. "I've got something you want which is convenient because you have something I want. I want the drive. All of them. And I want all of the information that blondie was able to pull from them." She turned back to Patterson and held up the knife again. "Tell them how serious this is."

"I'm sorry," Patterson said as tears flooded down her cheeks and burned the cuts on her cheek. "This isn't Jane. It's Remi. And I think she's going to kill me. I'm so sorry. You can't trust her."

Remi slapped Patterson across the face again before bringing the knife down hard into Patterson's left leg. She twisted the knife and Patterson let out another howl of pain. Blackness flooded Patterson's vision, and she felt like she was about to pass out. The blade on the Skeletool wasn't very long, maybe two and a half inches, but it felt at least three times that long.

"I'm not going to kill her," Remi told the camera as she rubbed her temples. All of Patterson's screaming was giving her a horrible headache. "Well, I won't if you cooperate and bring me what I've asked for. So, I'll give you guys, oh I'm feeling generous, how about two hours to plan your heroic rescue and bring me my drive. And I'll give you back the lab rat just a little worse for wear."

She walked towards the phone and reached around to stop the recording when she seemed to remember something.

"Oh, and honey, no guns. That's just not playing fair."

***

Reade was packing for the trip to Tokyo when he got the text from Patterson. He pressed play on the video file and nearly dropped the phone when he saw Patterson's bloodied face and Jane holding a knife to his friend's throat. He stopped the video immediately and punched in Weller's number.

"Meet me at the office," he said when Weller answered. "Jane has relapsed. And she's got Patterson."

***

Rich was waiting in SIOC when Weller and Reade both came off the elevator. It looked like they'd both run to the office. Rich beckoned them to follow him to the lab.

"I was able to track the location of Patterson's phone," he said as they moved quickly to the monitors and he threw up a satellite view of an abandoned shopping mall lot in Brooklyn. "There was a fire at this strip mall about a year ago and it's been condemned ever since. The building was never taken down so it's still there. What makes it special is there's a basement that was used as a storage room. My guess is that's where the artist formerly known as Jane is holding Patterson."

"Good work, Rich," Weller said.

"Are you sure this is it?" Reade asked.

"Not 100%, " Rich admitted "But close enough. Power was restored to the property a few days ago but there's no record of any property sale pending."

"It's Jane," Reade said.

"No," Weller said. "It's not Jane. It's Remi. There's a difference. Jane wouldn't do this."

***

Reade had to call Tasha. He knew that if he didn't tell her what was going on, he'd have to deal with her wrath later. Patterson was her best friend. She'd never forgive him if something happened to her and he didn't tell her. He had no idea where she was and hadn't seen her since that day she'd signed her exit paperwork in his office. He'd heard a rumor that she'd moved out of her apartment but hadn't heard anything else since. He dialed her number and she didn't pick up. Instead of leaving a voicemail, he texted her.

**Tasha, you need to pick up or call me back. It's about Patterson.**

His phone rang almost immediately.

"What's going on?" Tasha asked as soon as Reade answered the phone. "Is everything okay?"

Reade took a deep breath. This was going to be hard to explain. Tasha had no idea what had been going on. She didn't know that Jane had ZIP poisoning or that she might be having memory relapses.

"This is hard to explain and a long story but I need you to just go with it," he said. "Jane has kidnapped Patterson. She's holding her in an abandoned strip mall in Brooklyn. We got a video. It looks like Patterson's been tortured. We're on our way to find her. I just thought you should know since you guys are best friends."

Tasha sucked in a sharp breath and her heart dropped.

"It's not Jane," she said. "She's relapsed. She thinks she's Remi."

Reade was silent for a second.

"How do you know that?"

"It's a long story," she said. "Is Patterson okay?"

"We don't know yet. We're just about to leave. I called you first," he said and hesitated.

"What?"

He sighed. "It doesn't look good."


	5. If You Leave Me Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasha was full of rage. She blamed herself for Patterson's kidnapping. But none of this would have happened at all if Jane had never come into their lives in the first place. And now, here she was running around kidnapping and torturing wonderful, beautiful people like Patterson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original plan was a short six chapter effort. As I've been writing this and mapping out my next moves, it's spun out into about 11 chapters. So, we'll see. 
> 
> Consider this chapter my apology for the last. No torture and nary a violent act to be found.

Jane woke up on a concrete floor and her eyes instantly fell upon the wheels of a small metal cart just a few feet away. A pocketknife lay open near her hand, its blade extended and caked with drying blood. It looked just like the one Patterson carried. She checked herself for stab wounds and found none. She got to her feet and blinked several times against the glare of a pair of construction lights shining brightly in her direction. She looked around but didn't recognize her surroundings and she didn't know how she'd even gotten there.

Jane turned a slow circle as she took in the basement, and her eyes fell on the blonde tied to a wooden chair. Patterson's face was swollen and bloody; the left leg of her black pants soaked with blood. Fingers on both hands were swollen and twisted at unnatural and painful looking angles.

"Oh my god, Patterson!" she cried as hurried over and knelt beside her to check for a pulse. It was weak but steady.

She inspected the stab wound on Patterson's leg. It was still bleeding heavily, and Jane ripped her own belt through her belt loops, cinching it tight just above the wound in a makeshift tourniquet. She grabbed the knife off the floor and cut through the rope that held Patterson to the chair before slicing through the cable ties binding her arms.

"We've got to get out of here," Jane said to no one as began searching the room for an exit. She spotted a handgun on the wheeled table and checked the clip. It hadn't been fired. She flipped off the safety and racked a round into the chamber.

She started up a short flight of stairs and came to a wooden door. She tried the knob and found it locked. She put her weight against the door but it held firm in the doorjamb. She drove a hard kick into the door but it didn't give. She listened at the door for a moment and heard nothing.

"Help!" she called. "Someone! We're down here! We need an ambulance!"

She listened again and was greeted with silence. Whoever had put them down there didn't seem to be upstairs. She banged on the door again, throwing her weight behind it but the door held.

Jane went back down the stairs and checked on Patterson again. She was going to need medical attention but Jane thought she'd be okay. She grabbed one of the construction lights and aimed it around the room. The light flashed over a cellphone mounted to a tripod and Jane hurried over to it.

She ripped the phone from its mount and tried to unlock it. The screen asked for a fingerprint biometric input, and Jane knew it wasn't her phone. She carried it over to Patterson and gently used one of the blonde's uninjured fingers to unlock it. The screen came to life and she tapped the dialer application. She punched in Weller's number.

"Kurt," she began. "It's me. Something has happened. I just woke up in the basement of — I don't know where — and I'm with Patterson. She's really hurt. I don't know what's happened."

***

"You can't just leave in the middle of an assignment," Keaton protested.

"I am leaving," Tasha said. "I will come back as soon as I can but I am going. It's personal."

Keaton heard the urgency in Zapata's voice despite the more than 3,500 miles between them and was baffled by it. She was in the middle of an undercover op with Blake Crawford. There was absolutely nothing that should have been pulling her attention away.

"Why? What's so urgent?" he asked.

"What part of 'it's personal' did you not understand?" Tasha said, her voice tinged with venom.

"You are in the middle of an operation, Tasha," Keaton hissed into the phone. "You can't just up and go because you have something personal."

"I'm not asking your permission, Jake," Tasha said impatiently. She was doing all she could not to simply hang up on him. "This is a courtesy call. I have to leave. I'm going back to New York. Now."

Tasha was about to hang up when Keaton tried again.

"Tasha," he said, trying to bring some level of calmness back into his voice. "What is so urgent that you have to get back to New York? I understand it's personal, but you're working with this team now. I need to know what's happening with my operative."

"Reade called," Tasha finally admitted.

"Oh, not this tired crap again," Keaton sighed. This was exasperating. "Tasha, we've been over this a hundred times. They are not your team anymore —"

"Patterson's been kidnapped," she interrupted. "She's being held and tortured."

Keaton said nothing for a second. He didn't want to sound insensitive but this was not his problem. It wasn't Tasha's problem either.

"I'm sorry about your friend, Tasha," he said. "But there is nothing you can do. And it's not your responsibility."

Tasha was seething with anger. It was none of Keaton's business but he was forcing her hand.

"Patterson is my girlfriend," she admitted for the first time to anyone. It felt wrong that Keaton was the first to find out. "And I am going home to see her before my next chance is at her funeral. So, you can either be okay with me leaving or I can quit, but either way I am leaving right now."

***

Reade wheeled the black SUV into the parking lot with a screech of tires and came to a stop near the center of the plaza. He and Weller had donned bullet-proof vests and, as Remi had requested, left their long-arms behind. This was a mistake. Remi was clearly dangerous. Giving into her demands seemed reckless but Weller argued that if they went in guns blazing, Remi might kill Patterson. She had no reason to keep her alive. Patterson meant nothing to Remi. Reade had reluctantly agreed to leave their assault rifles behind but he'd refused to give up his sidearm. He unholstered it as they climbed out of the truck and walked purposefully towards the sidewalk.

If Remi was holding Patterson in the basement, there was only one storefront with access to it, according to the architectural plans Rich had found while they drove. Weller tried the front door and it swung open easily. He stepped inside with his gun extended and swept the room.

"Clear," he called as Reade followed him inside. "Rich? Where's the basement access point?"

"Head straight to the back of the room," Rich's voice came over the comms. "There should be an office on the right and there's a basement door through there."

Reade lead the way, surveying the empty room as they walked. When they reached the office, he grabbed for the doorknob and Weller suddenly pushed his hand away. He pointed through the office's window. The reflection of a pulsing green light bounced off the metal leg of a nearby desk. Weller stepped closer to the window and peered inside. A trip wire had been attached to the office door and a set of wires ran to a crude looking bomb attached to the backside of the door. Remi had invited them to rescue Patterson in exchange for the drive, but she had no intentions of letting any of them out of there. She'd set another trap for them.

"Bomb," he said. "Remi rigged the door."

His cellphone rang then and he grabbed it from his pocket. Patterson's name appeared on the caller ID.

"Patterson?" he asked as he answered. "You okay?"

"Kurt, it's me," Jane said. She sounded confused and scared. "Something has happened. I just woke up in the basement of — I don't know where — and I'm with Patterson. She's really hurt. I don't know what's happened."

Weller put his hand over the mouthpiece.

"It's Jane," he said to Reade.

"Don't you mean Remi?" Reade asked.

Weller shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," she said. "I woke up on the floor of a basement and I don't think I'm hurt. I feel fine but Patterson's here. She's really bleeding badly. I think she needs an ambulance. I have no idea how we got here or who brought us but, Kurt, I don't know where we are."

Weller put his hand over the mouthpiece again. "Have Rich get that ambulance here now," he told Reade. He pulled his hand away from the receiver. He needed to be certain he was talking to Jane and not Remi.

"Ask her about Cairo," Reade said, sensing Weller's need to be sure it wasn't Remi setting them up for yet another trap. "Remi agreed with Patterson about a mission in Cairo before. Jane would know better."

"Jane, I need you to look around. Think about the Cairo mission —"

"What Cairo mission?" Jane asked. "We've never done a mission in Cairo, Kurt."

Kurt let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh thank god," he said. "It's you."

"Of course it's me," Jane said. "Who else would it be?"

"I'll explain later," Weller said. "Right now, I need you to find a set of stairs and go up them."

"Are you here?" Jane asked, her voice raising in excitement. "How'd you find us already?"

"I'll explain later," Weller repeated. "Just find those stairs and go up them."

"I already did," Jane said. "The door is locked."

Weller shook his head. "Okay, check your pockets. Look around. There's a key."

Jane didn't respond immediately as she checked her pockets. Her fingers came into contact with a small silver key.

"There was a key in my pocket," she said. "How...how did you know that?"

"Later," Weller said. "Just go up the stairs and unlock the door. That key should open it."

He heard footfalls on the stairs and then saw the doorknob begin to turn through the office window. After a few seconds, Jane stepped through the door. She spotted Kurt through the window and started to run towards the boobytrapped door.

"Jane! Stop!" Reade yelled. "There's a bomb."

Jane came to an abrupt halt when she saw the crude bomb attached to the doorframe.

"I think I can disarm it," she said. "Give me a minute."

She crouched in front of the door and inspected the wires and tripwire. Within minutes the bomb disabled in minutes and Weller and Reade burst through the door and into the basement.

"There's an ambulance on the way," Weller yelled over his shoulder to Jane. "Show them where to go."

***

Tasha rushed through the hospital's sliding doors with her suitcase bumping along behind her. She hadn't bothered to go home to drop off her luggage; she just needed to see Patterson. Reade had been keeping her updated over text ever since the ambulance drove away from the strip mall. Patterson had undergone two surgeries — one on her right knee to repair her broken kneecap and the other on her left leg to close up the stab wound — but was now resting.

As she approached her girlfriend's hospital room she braced herself for what was to come. Aside from Patterson's condition, she knew there was a good chance that she was about to see all of the members of her old team for the first time since signing her exit paperwork. They didn’t know what she'd been doing since her "firing" and she was 99% certain none of them knew about her relationship with Patterson. She'd been preparing herself for this since boarding the plane in Paris, and she didn't want to fall apart in front of them. She set her suitcase down outside Patterson's door and took a deep breath before entering the room.

Weller and Jane, Reade and Rich all stood around Patterson's bed with their backs to her. She peered around them and spotted Patterson laying in the bed, her eyes closed and face swollen and covered in bandages and ugly, purple bruises. A machine beside the bed beeped softly, and Tasha's eyes followed the assortment of tubes and wires from the machines to where her girlfriend was laying helplessly. Her left arm was wrapped in a large white bandage, and the index finger of that hand was supported by a metal splint. Her right hand was surrounded in a plaster cast, extending down over her fingers. A large brace surrounded Patterson's right knee, and a smaller one wrapped around her left leg. Tasha's heart ached and she couldn't get enough air into her lungs. Her legs felt weak and she gripped the doorframe.

Reade heard her sharp intake of breath and was the first to turn to greet her. He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a tight hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She hugged him back, regaining her balance, and tears started to stream down her face. She silently chastised herself for being unable to keep it together longer than five minutes.

"How is she?" Tasha asked quietly and swallowed down the hard lump that had formed in her throat.

"She'll be okay," Reade assured her. "It looks way worse than it is. She's sleeping right now but she should be fine. Patterson's tough."

"The toughest," Tasha agreed as Jane took Reade's place, wrapping her arms around her.

Tasha stiffened slightly at the embrace. She was surprised to see Jane (or was it Remi?) at Patterson's bedside and not in handcuffs in a holding cell somewhere. That's where she belonged in Tasha's opinion, anyway. She cast a look at Reade over Jane's shoulder and Reade gently separated them, allowing Rich to take Jane's place.

"I'm sorry," Rich whispered as he hugged her. "I know."

Tasha pulled away from him and gave him a questioning look. What did Rich know? she wondered. Weller didn't give her a chance to question Rich. He hugged her tight.

"It's good to see you, Tasha," he said. "I wish it was under better circumstances."

Tasha nodded as they separated. She felt absolutely numb as she walked over to Patterson's bed. She wanted to take her hand and kiss her and tell her that she loved her and would take care of her. She settled for brushing a piece of blonde hair out of Patterson's eyes and placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"Mi corazón, mi vida," she said her voice barely a whisper. "I'm here." She heard the unsteadiness of her voice and fought to keep back a new wave of tears. She refused to break down in front of everyone.

Rich put a supportive hand on her shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze before turning back to the rest of the group.

"Hey guys, why don't we go find some coffee and give Tasha a few minutes with Sleeping Beauty here," he said. "The room's a little crowded."

They all murmured their reluctant agreement and began filing out the door.

"Hey Rich," Tasha quietly called after him. "Thanks."

He turned back and smiled.

"Patterson told me. Don't worry, I haven't said anything. But she seemed happy lately so I'm happy for you guys," he said and followed the rest of the team out of the room.

Tasha watched everyone leave before turning back to Patterson and finally allowing the tears to come. There was no point in holding them back now. The woman she loved, who she was more and more certain was the love of her life, was once again laying in a hospital bed. It was less serious than her last extended stay – there was no medically induced coma or brain hemorrhaging this time – but it felt worse. She desperately wanted to hold her hand and reassure Patterson that she was there and would stay for as long as she needed her but she was afraid of hurting her. It seemed like every inch was covered in some kind of bandage or brace.

She grabbed one of the visitor chairs and dragged it as close to Patterson's bed as she could get. If she wasn't so afraid of hurting her, Tasha would have climbed into the bed and wrapped her arms around her just to listen to her heartbeat. Instead, she sat in the uncomfortable chair, listened to the steady beeping of the cardiac monitor, and just watched Patterson sleep.

Tasha was full of rage. She blamed herself for Patterson's kidnapping. She'd seen Jane lurking around the apartment building and had even talked to Patterson about her potential relapse into Remi. They'd both known that it was possible and maybe already happening. She knew how dangerous Remi could be. All of Jane's abilities and skills mixed with the psychopathic tendencies of Roman and Shepherd was a bad mix. But she'd gotten into the stupid cab anyway and driven away to the stupid airport to go to stupid work. She should have been there. She didn't know if she would have been able to stop this from happening but Tasha felt awful. She should have been there. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to forgive herself.

But none of this would have happened at all if Jane had never come into their lives in the first place. Ever since she climbed out of that damn bag, their lives had been nothing but chaos. She'd nearly lost her best friends on several occasions all because of Jane and her awful family. And now here she was watching her girlfriend fight for her life once again all because of Jane. Okay, maybe Patterson wasn't in a fight for her life this time, but she was still severely injured and in a hospital bed and it was Jane's fault. She didn't think she would ever be able to look at Jane the same way let alone forgive her.

No, it was Weller's fault. He'd been so enamored with Jane from the moment he realized that she might be Taylor Shaw, and it'd clouded his judgement on every single thing he did. Hell, he'd been so desperate to be with her, he'd allowed himself to go to the edge of bankruptcy just to get her back. That was weak and stupid. Jane wasn't worth that hassle. Sure, Jane had saved each of their lives at some point but their lives would never have been in jeopardy if she'd never found her way to them in the first place. Of course, if it weren't for Weller and Jane's wedding, she may never have begun a relationship with Patterson but Tasha wasn't willing to believe that. It would have happened. Eventually.

And now, here she was running around kidnapping and torturing wonderful, beautiful people like Patterson. All she had to do was flutter her eyes at Weller, tell him that she didn't remember what happened, and he let her go free. She was an animal and she deserved to be locked up in a cage. She could send her back to a CIA black site with a single phone call. Maybe she could even arrange to be the lead interrogator. The idea was tempting.

The thought of sending Jane back to the CIA with one phone call brought Tasha out of her thoughts. Had anyone called Patterson's parents? Did they even know what had happened? She rummaged in her purse for her phone and was about to text Reade when she heard Patterson's voice.

"Tash?" she said softly.

"Hey." Tasha gave her a small smile. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"It's okay," Patterson said. "You're here."

"Where else would I be?"

"I thought you were in Paris."

Tasha nodded. "I was. Reade called."

"Oh," she said. "You didn't have to —"

"Of course I did," Tasha said. She reached for Patterson's hand but stopped when she realized that the hand she so desperately wanted to hold was encased in plaster. The lump returned to her throat. "Reade told me what was happening and I was so scared I might lose you. I caught the very first plane I could. How are you?"

Patterson glanced towards one of the IVs pumping drugs into her veins and smiled again.

"Well, I have morphine so I'm good," she said. "You mean physically?"

Tasha nodded.

"Broken fingers, a broken knuckle, shattered kneecap, stab wound in the vastus medialis —"

"The what?"

"Lower thigh," Patterson explained. "And some cuts and bruises. I'll be okay."

Tasha didn't respond. She didn't know how Patterson could describe her injuries like that and then say she'd be okay. It sounded opposite (opposite).

"I was so scared," Patterson admitted finally. "When Shepherd and Borden... and he was going to kill me, I was terrified but this was worse. It's hard to believe that Jane was once Remi. She's a monster. I didn't think I was ever going to see you again or leave that basement."

Tasha's heart broke. She wanted nothing more than to see Jane locked up somewhere. She'd tried to take away the only thing good in her life, and Tasha was prepared to fight her. Tears started to fall again, and Tasha wondered how it was possible to cry so much in one day.

"Don't do that," Patterson warned, her voice cracking. "If you start crying, I'm going to start crying, and we'll both be crying."

Tasha wiped her tears away.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I just, I love you so much and to hear you talking like that...it breaks my heart. I'm so sorry I wasn't here. I should have been here."

"You're here now," Patterson said. She tried to scoot up on the bed but the pain in her legs stopped her. She held her plaster covered hand out to Tasha. "Come here."

Tasha got slowly to her feet and set her purse back down on the floor. She took the few steps towards Patterson's bed and it felt like she was walking miles. She reached for Patterson's hand and let their fingertips touch. Patterson pulled her hand away and hissed in pain.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry!" Tasha said and started back to her seat.

"No," Patterson said. "Come back. It's okay. I wasn't thinking."

Tasha laid her hand softly on Patterson's arm, just above the cast and caressed the skin there with her thumb.

"Can I kiss you?" Tasha asked after a moment. She felt silly for asking permission to kiss her own girlfriend but she didn't want to see Patterson in any more pain and she certainly didn't want to be the cause of it.

"Please."

Tasha leaned down and brushed Patterson's hair away from her face. She pressed her lips lightly against her girlfriend's. She was so worried about hurting her that the kiss could barely be called a kiss and Patterson lifted her head slightly to force more contact. It was a sweet kiss and it reminded Patterson of their very first. With her eyes closed and the help of the morphine drip, Patterson was almost able to forget where she was and all that she'd endured. She could lose herself in Tasha and her heart swelled with love. She'd never loved anyone the way that she did Tasha, and she wished they could stay in that moment forever.


	6. It Wasn't Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to close her eyes again without thinking of what she'd seen on that horrible video. She could never forgive herself. How could she? How would she ever look at Patterson again? How could she face any of them? They all knew what she'd done. She was ashamed and heartsick and terrified of who she had become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one.

Jane was quiet as they made the walk from Patterson's room to the cafeteria in search of coffee. She was lost in her own thoughts, her mind racing with questions. How had Reade and Weller found them so quickly? Why was the key to the locked basement door in her pocket? How come Patterson had been so brutalized while she was unhurt? How did they even wind up in the basement in the first place? And why wasn't the team actively searching for whoever was responsible for this? She'd been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she hadn't noticed that none of them had said much since arriving at the hospital. She grabbed Weller's arm and pulled him away from the group.

"Can we talk?" she asked quietly. Reade and Rich stopped walking and turned back to them.

"Go ahead. We'll catch up," Weller said.

Jane steered Weller towards a nearly deserted waiting area. She waited for Reade and Rich to be out of earshot. Weller started to say something and she cut him off.

"How did you know I had a key in my pocket?" Her eyes were wide and she searched his face.

He didn't answer her and looked down to the floor. The answer would destroy her. He needed to tell her but didn't know how to begin.

"Kurt," she pressed. "Something feels wrong about all of this. You and Reade were already there, I had a key to open the door, and no one is looking for whoever did this. You said you'd tell me later. It's later. What aren't you telling me?"

"We should probably sit down for this," he said and headed towards a pair of empty chairs. He sat down and waited for Jane to sit beside him. She crossed her arms and remained standing. He nodded. "Okay then. We're not looking for the person who did this to Patterson because we already know who it is."

Jane's face lit up.

"You do? That's great, Kurt," she said. "Let's go bring 'em in."

"We can't," Weller said. He was having a hard time keeping eye contact with he and he looked away again.

"Why not?"

"We just can't, Jane."

"Kurt."

He hesitated. He knew he had to tell her, but how do you tell your wife that her long-dormant past-life personality had assumed control and had just spent hours torturing one of her best friends? It didn't even sound like real life. He cleared his throat and looked back at her.

"It's you."

Everything felt out of focus all of sudden and Jane grabbed for the empty seat next to Weller. She felt like she could fall over. All of the strength had run out of her legs, and she sat down heavily. That wasn't the answer she was expecting.

"What? No," she said, shaking her head. "That...no. You're wrong. I didn't...I wouldn't have. Patterson is my friend. I —"

"No," Weller said with a sigh. "You're right. _You_ didn't do it. Remi did."

This didn't clear things up and Jane shook her head again.

"That doesn't make any sense, Kurt. I don’t remember —"

"I know, but it's the truth," he said. "You've been suffering from memory relapses. All those missing blocks of time you can't seem to remember? You were relapsing into Remi. Patterson had figured it out and —"

"You're saying that I did this to Patterson? The broken fingers? The cuts on her face? The shattered kneecap? I stabbed her?" She choked the last question out. "Oh god, I feel sick."

Kurt shook his head and took his wife's hands in his own. "Remi did it," he corrected her. "It wasn't you."

Jane pulled her hands away.

"Don't touch me," she said. Her eyes started to fill with tears and she blinked them away. She didn't know how Kurt could touch her let alone sit there next to her.

Neither spoke for a long time and Jane stared at her hands with her elbows on her knees. Patterson was a mess. It wasn't life threatening but she'd been hurt so badly. How could she have done that to one of her best friends? She couldn't have, she reasoned. Kurt had to be wrong. Whoever took them, tortured Patterson first. Jane must have been next. Kurt was wrong. He had to be.

"How do you know?" she asked finally.

"Remi texted us a video from Patterson's phone," he said. Just mentioning the video made his stomach clench. He didn't know what had happened before she'd pressed record, but what she had captured was tough to watch. He couldn't imagine being in Patterson's position. She was one thousand times braver than he'd ever given her credit for.

"I want to see it," Jane insisted.

"No."

"Why not? If you're saying that I'm the one responsible for what happened to Patterson, then I want to see the video."

"No, Jane," Weller said again. "I can't let you watch it. It's...it's hard to watch."

"I don't care," Jane said. "I have to see it. If I did this...I have to see it, Kurt. Please."

Kurt fished his phone from his pocket and pulled up the video message. He handed the phone to Jane and looked away. He couldn't watch it again. He knew the exact moment Jane tapped the play button. She let out a gasp of shock as her own image filled the screen and then stepped back from the camera, grabbing a knife from the metal table she'd woken up next to.

"No," she whispered as she watched herself place the knife to Patterson's throat. "Oh my god."

Jane watched the rest of the video in stunned silence. When the video ended she wordlessly handed the phone back to her husband. She couldn't look at him. She couldn't speak. She'd done something horrible and didn't even remember doing any of it. She felt like throwing up. She'd watched herself slap Patterson across the face hard enough to make her bleed, position a knife dangerously close to her eye, and then stab her in the leg. She thought about Patterson's other injuries and shuddered. What had she done off camera? What kind of monster had she become?

"You okay?" Weller asked. He was watching her. She'd gone pale and her pupils were constricted as she stared at nothing. "Jane?" He reached out to her hand again and she pulled it away quickly.

"Don't," she said with a harsh coldness to her voice. "Don't, Kurt. I tried to kill Patterson."

"It wasn't you," Weller insisted. "It was Remi."

She turned to look at him suddenly. Panic had overtaken her face. "Why am I not in lockup? I should be arrested. I...I don't belong here. I did a horrible thing. I am a monster. You should put me in lockup. Holding at least."

Weller was shaking his head.

"I'm not going to do that, Jane."

"Why not? Patterson... I... Kurt, how can you trust it won't happen again? That I won't relapse into Remi and do something else awful? I should be locked up."

She sprang to her feet and started in the direction of the nearest exit.

"Jane!" he yelled after her. "Where are you going? Jane!"

***

Roman's cell was mostly unchanged from his time there. The creature comforts she'd requisitioned were gone but otherwise, it was the same. Jane had convinced the new agent sitting in Zapata's old chair, Henry something, to lock her in and he'd done it without question. Now she sat with her back to the cold tile wall. She'd started out sitting with her eyes closed but all she could see was her own face, filled with hatred, as she slammed the knife into Patterson's thigh and twisted the blade for good measure.

She wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to close her eyes again without thinking of what she'd seen on that horrible video. Not that she could forget with her eyes open.

She could never forgive herself. How could she? How would she ever look at Patterson again? How could she face any of them? They all knew what she'd done. She was ashamed and heartsick and terrified of who she had become. Jane thought back on the hug she'd given Tasha and how the smaller woman had gone rigid as soon as she'd touched her. It had seemed odd at the time but now it made perfect sense. Tasha was afraid of her. That made both of them.

Jane studied the thick bulletproof glass that surrounded her. She'd hated seeing Roman in this cell and she'd hated her own short stay in it but this is where she belonged. If she relapsed into Remi, at least everyone around her would be out of harm's way. If only she'd been here before she'd attacked Patterson.

She wondered what actually happened. No one seemed to know. Patterson probably did, she realized. Just thinking of Patterson made her feel sick. How could she have done what she'd done? She wished Kurt had never come to find her in Nepal. If she'd just stayed away none of this would have happened.

She drew her knees up to her chin and rested her forehead. She felt like she ought to cry or something but she couldn’t. She didn't deserve tears. This cell, that was what she deserved.

"Jane." Weller's voice startled her and she looked up. "What are you doing in there?"

"This is where I belong, Kurt," she said miserably.

He stepped up to the glass and fumbled for his keys to let her out.

"No," Jane said. She got to her feet and walked towards the door. "Don't."

"Don't do this, Jane."

"Please, Kurt," she said. "I don't want to hurt anyone else. I should be in here. If it was anyone else, they'd be in here. You know that."

Kurt stared at her for a moment. He hated seeing her in the cell.

"You're my wife," he said.

"And I'm dangerous. I'm staying here."

Weller sighed. He knew that he could leave the door unlocked but Jane would stay there. He grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it over until he could sit and face her.

"Don’t," Jane warned.

"I'll leave you in there," Weller said. "But I'm staying right here."

"But Patterson..."

"Will be fine. Eventually. Look, Jane, what Remi did was awful. Unforgivable even —"

"You're not making me feel any better —"

"But you're still my wife. I love you. I know it wasn't you."

Jane shook her head. "Remi is me," she objected. "I am Remi. We're the same person, Kurt."

"No, you're not. She's who you used to be," Weller said. "And we'll find the drives and we'll find a cure for the ZIP poisoning and you can say goodbye to her forever."

Jane considered this for a minute. Even if she could say goodbye to Remi, it wouldn't reverse everything she'd done as Remi. It wouldn't take back what she'd done to Patterson.

"What if we find a cure for ZIP poisoning but I end up as Remi? Then what?"

"That's not gonna happen."

"But you don't know that."

"I know you," Weller said. "And I know that when you started to get your memories back you could have gone back to being Remi. You chose this life. You chose Jane."


	7. A Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be hard to tell Reade but it was time to rip the band-aid off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to give a quick thanks to everyone who's been reading this and leaving kudos or chatting with me on Twitter. You're making my poor, ego-maniacal writer's heart soar. I'm still totally not used to essentially writing a story and sharing it in real time like this but I've been having a great time.

Tasha was back in the visitor's chair after nearly being thrown out by a nurse so Patterson could rest. The blonde had shut that down quickly, however, telling the nurse that she wanted Tasha to stay for as long as she could. Tasha had complied though with the nurse's request to bring her suitcase in from the hallway, and it was now stashed in a dark corner. None of the team had seemed to notice it outside the door but she didn't want to draw any extra attention to it. If they noticed it, they'd ask her where she'd been and what she'd been doing.

And then she'd have to explain that she had been working alongside Blake Crawford as an adviser at HCI Global as part of an undercover CIA operation. And as soon as she said "CIA," they'd know her firing had been nothing more than a ruse and that she'd once again lied to them all. She wasn't up for their accusing looks and endless questions. She wasn't naïve. Those questions would come eventually but she could put them off at least for now.

Patterson was sleeping again. In addition to knocking out the pain, the morphine drip made her sleepy and Tasha had encouraged her to sleep despite protests that she didn't want to and wasn't tired. Once she was asleep, Tasha had summoned up her courage and called Bill. She hated making phone calls like this. _Hey Bill, it's Tasha. Your daughter is in the hospital again._ But it had to be done, of course with far greater tact than that. Now Tasha stifled her own yawn and closed her eyes. It was the middle of the night back in Paris and the day was catching up with her. It had been nearly 30 hours since she'd last slept in something that wasn't a chair. She was dozing when she was woken by a hand on her shoulder.

"Tasha," Reade said quietly so as not to startle her. "She wake up?"

Tasha blinked away the sleep and nodded.

"Yeah, for a few minutes," she said. "A nurse came by and checked on her, and then the morphine knocked her out again. I called her dad."

Reade nodded and handed her a cup of coffee.

"Here," he said. "It's worse than the coffee at the office but I thought you might like some."

"Thanks. It's been a long day," she murmured and took a sip. She cringed. "You weren't wrong. That’s awful."

He cocked his head towards the door. "Take a walk?"

Tasha hesitated. "I should stay," she said. "If she wakes up again or Bill shows up..."

"She's out," Reade said. "Come on. Let's talk at least."

Tasha followed Reade out of Patterson's room only after casting one more look at the sleeping blonde. He was probably right. The morphine would keep her out for a while. Reade closed Patterson's door and lead Tasha away from it.

"So, how you been?" he asked finally. It felt awkward. After Tasha left the NYO, they hadn't spoken until he'd texted to tell her about Patterson. Not that he hadn't tried. He'd texted her repeatedly but she never responded.

"I'm okay," Tasha said. She took another sip at the awful coffee. "Geez, this really doesn't get any better, does it?"

"No, it really doesn't," Reade laughed, sipping at his own cup. "You looked tired so I thought you might appreciate the caffeine."

"I do. Thank you." Tasha was painfully aware of how stilted their conversation seemed. It was never like this. Even when they were arguing after being apart for a year, it was still easy conversation. Talking to Reade now was like talking to a complete stranger. And it had only been a few months since the last time she'd seen him. He'd tried to keep the lines of communication open but after she'd told him their timing was off, she didn't know what to say to him so she said nothing. And there were all the secrets she was keeping from him.

"I heard you moved," Reade said.

"Yeah, uh, my lease expired about a month ago."

"You're still in the city?"

"I'm still here."

Reade nodded and took another sip of the terrible coffee, grimacing as he swallowed it down. "Took you a while to get here."

Tasha tucked her hair behind her ear. "I was out of town."

"Oh."

"Reade, please. I don't want to do this right now," she said frowning at him.

"Do what?" Reade asked. "I'm just making conversation."

"You know what you're doing. You're one of my best friends. Can we please do this later? I just can't right now."

"Fine," he said. "You do look tired though."

"I'm exhausted," Tasha admitted. "I've been awake for something like 30 hours now."

"Maybe you should go home and get some sleep. It's not like Patterson's going anywhere."

"I've slept."

"What? In a chair? That doesn't count, Tasha." He paused. "Have you eaten anything?"

"I had a PowerBar on the plane," she said defensively. "Are you through trying to mother me?"

Reade held a hand up. "Well, as long as you had a PowerBar. I haven't eaten since breakfast. I was gonna ask if you wanna grab a sandwich with me but since you had a PowerBar..."

"Fine."

Tasha was, in fact, starving. Aside from the PowerBar, she couldn’t remember the last thing she ate or when that might have been. There may have been breakfast foods at some point but everything was a blur now. She walked alongside Reade to the cafeteria. Neither of them spoke until they'd picked up sandwiches and were sitting at one of the tables.

Reade unwrapped the clear plastic from his sandwich first and took a bite.

"Not to ruin your day or anything, but if you thought the coffee was bad," he said around a mouthful of egg salad.

Tasha took a bite of her own sandwich and set it back down.

"How?" she asked after finally choking down the bite. "How do you ruin a sandwich?"

Reade laughed and took another bite.

"I missed this," he said finally. Tasha raised an eyebrow. "It's not the same since you're gone."

"I've been around," she said.

"I haven't seen you."

Tasha shrugged and took another bite. Like the coffee, it didn't get any better. Reade watched her before setting his sandwich back down.

"What's goin' on with you?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you hopped a plane here from somewhere, haven't slept in 30 hours, and the only thing you've eaten other than this horrible sandwich is a PowerBar," he said. "Something up?"

Tasha set her own sandwich back down and pushed it away. It just kept getting worse. Maybe she could find something in a vending machine that more closely resembled edible food.

"No, I'm fine," she said. "It's just, it's Patterson, you know? She's one of my best friends. When you called and told me what happened... I'd have come back for any of you."

"Really? You'd have dropped everything like this for Rich?"

"Sure," she said and looked back at her sandwich before taking another tentative bite.

"Right," he said. "I know you better than that."

Tasha sighed. Reade was right. He did know her better than that. Tasha loved her friends but she did have the tendency to put Tasha first. She'd been working – of course, Reade didn't know that – but she'd dropped every single thing and had even threatened to quit just so she could come home to be with Patterson. She wondered if he already knew and was just waiting to see if she'd tell him.

"Okay," she said and gave him a slow smile. "So maybe I wouldn't have dropped everything for Rich."

"That's what I thought."

She chewed her lip for a second. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he took another bite and chased it with the remains of his coffee.

"What happens now? To Jane. Why is she even here? Shouldn't she be in a cell somewhere?" She couldn't mask the anger in her voice.

Reade nodded. "I don't know. Kurt was talking to her. When we found them, Jane didn't remember it happening. She had no idea where they were or how they'd gotten there. I don't know if she knows yet or how we'll tell her or —"

"She almost killed Patterson," Tasha said angrily. "She should be in jail."

"It's complicated, Tash."

"What's so complicated about it? She kidnapped a federal agent, Reade. And then tortured her. You've seen Patterson! You know how bad it is! And she has the big brass balls to stand there in her room and act like nothing even happened! Like she doesn't know what she's done! She should be locked up!"

"I don't think it's an act," Reade said. "I don't think she knows."

"Fuck that. Of course, she does, Reade," Tasha spit. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes and she was unable to stop them from falling. "How could she not? She tortured Patterson! Patterson, Reade! And she gets to run free? It's not right. I mean, Patterson could have died. We could be preparing for her funeral because Jane went all Mr. Hyde."

Reade got up from his chair and went around to Tasha's side of the table. He sat in an empty chair and hugged her. Tasha rarely let anyone see her vulnerable side but it was on full display now. He'd seen it before and it always made him hurt. The mask of rage she put on was more for show. Sure, she was angry – they all were – but there was something else driving this reaction.

"Hey," he said quietly. "It's okay. Patterson's gonna be alright and we'll deal with Jane somehow. It'll be okay."

"I was scared, Reade," Tasha admitted quietly as she buried her face into his shoulder. "That's why I came back. I love Patterson. I couldn't stand the thought of something happening to her."

"We all love Patterson," Reade assured her. "None of us wanted this."

Tasha pulled out his hug and sniffed. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and took a deep shuddery breath.

"No," she said. "It's different."

Reade shook his head.

"I know, she's your best friend."

Tasha swallowed hard. This was going to be hard to tell Reade but it was time to rip the band-aid off. She'd spent so long hiding her relationship with Patterson from everyone. It was time to tell her friends. She'd already been forced to tell Keaton and Rich knew. It wasn't right that she was hiding it from Reade. He'd been her friend since she first arrived at the FBI.

"I've been living with Patterson," she said.

"Wait, you've been living with Patterson? Are you for real? No one's heard from you for months but you've been living with Patterson. I texted you!" Reade was stunned. He'd just assumed that she'd stopped talking to everyone at the same time. It hurt that she'd selectively chosen to ignore him.

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry, but it's different."

"Why? Because of what happened between us?"

"What? No," Tasha insisted. "Look, Reade, you and I are never going to work out. I didn't text you back because I didn't text you back. I had to move on."

"So, your lease expired and you moved in with Patterson," he said. "If you were having money problems you could have reached out."

"No, Reade, I'm not having money problems." she began, frustration creeping into her voice. She took a deep breath and continued in a calmer tone. "I'm gonna tell you something, but you can't freak out or go all Reade on me."

"'Go all Reade'? What does that even mean?"

"Oh, you know what I mean. The way you get," Tasha said. "Just promise."

"The way I get," he echoed. "Fine. Yeah, I promise. What?"

"Patterson and I live together. Like together together," she said.

"Yeah, you just said that."

"No, I mean..." She sighed again. She didn't want to just blurt it out, it was Reade after all, but that seemed like the best way to do this. "Patterson and I are..."

"Are what?"

"We're sort of, I mean kind of, we're dating?" It came out as a question. Dammit. She hadn't meant it to come out like that but she was suddenly sitting here with Reade and he was watching her so closely with that look he got and she was telling him her biggest secret and she'd lost her nerve and boom. There it was.

Reade went silent as he processed what Tasha just told him. He didn't even think Patterson liked women. Hell, he thought Tasha was into him.

"You're sort of, kind of, dating?" he repeated after a moment.

Tasha licked her lips nervously and nodded. "Yeah. Again."

Reade's eyebrows shot up. "Again? What do you mean, 'again'?"

Tasha looked down at the table. She couldn't quite bring herself to look at him.

"We hooked up at Jane and Weller's wedding. Well, not really hooked up, I mean, we did but —"

"Tash, I don't need the details."

"Yeah, sorry. Anyway, we started dating then and we were together until Patterson moved to California and I was CIA and it just got too hard."

"A year?! You two were dating for a year? How did none of us know this?"

"We didn't exactly take out a billboard," Tasha retorted.

Reade took a deep breath. All at once, he didn't know what to do or say. When Tasha had thrown him away, he thought she'd come around. Eventually their timing would be right and he'd get to be with Tasha. Now, she was sitting here telling him that she wasn't going to come around and that their timing would always be off and that she was what? Gay? With Patterson? His mind couldn't process this.

"I don't understand," he said finally. "Patterson and David and Borden, and you and me. Now you and Patterson? You two are gay?"

"Bi," she corrected. "It means —"

"I know what it means, Tasha."

"We just got back together a few months ago," she said as if that explained everything.

"So, you and Patterson," Reade said finally. "You're a couple?"

Tasha nodded. She considered her sandwich for a minute. Taking a bite would give her something else to do but it was so bad. She rewrapped it instead. It was destined for the trashcan.

"I know you don't want to hear this and I'm sorry. I really am, Reade," she said. "I love her. Every day I spend with Patterson, I love her just a little bit more. And when you called and told me it didn't look good, I felt like I was about to die inside. I had to get here and I couldn't get here fast enough."

"She makes you happy?"

"The happiest."

"I don't think I've ever heard you talk this way about anyone before," Reade said. He realized he hadn't been looking at her. He looked up now and gave her a small smile. "Someone finally got through that cold frozen heart of yours. I wish it had been me."

"You know I love you, Ed," Tasha said softly. "You're my best friend and maybe things would have been different but..."

"You love Patterson."

"More than anything."

"Does she know how much you love her?"

Tasha hesitated and nodded slowly. "I think so."

"You should make sure you tell her," he said. "People like to hear things like that."

He glanced at his watch. They'd been sitting and talking for almost 45 minutes. He crumpled up the remains of his lunch and stood up.

"We should get back," he said. "Maybe we'll find a vending machine with something edible."

Tasha got to her feet and caught Reade in a hug.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"Everything," she said. "For listening, for accepting, for being my friend? Pick one?"

Reade kissed the top of her head and hugged her just a bit tighter. It hurt that he wasn't the one who'd made her both so happy and so vulnerable but it was nice to see her this way with some of her hard edges smoothed out.

_Complete_ , he thought. Yes, that's what it was. He'd been unable to put his finger on it earlier but Tasha seemed more complete now than she had before. He might not have been able to do that for her, but he was happy she'd found someone who could.

He thought about Patterson and wondered how he'd missed it. Lately it was like that bright light that always seemed to shine inside of her had gotten even brighter. Tasha had been responsible for that. His two friends were the happiest he'd ever seen them, and if that meant he didn't get to be with Tasha, he was okay with that. She was happy and that's all he'd really ever wanted for her.


	8. Things About Holding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasha loved chatting with Bill. He'd always been incredibly nice and sweet to her even during stressful times like this. He'd been naturally very worried when Tasha called to tell him what happened and she knew he was still worried but he never let it show. He was just as positive and animated as ever. In a lot of ways, Patterson was just like her father.

It felt good to wash away the cab/airplane/cab smell and, if Tasha was being honest, it was nice to sleep in an actual bed. But being home was bittersweet. The apartment was too quiet and too empty but the sheets smelled like Patterson. Tasha could have stayed wrapped up in them all day but she had no plans to stay there long. She hadn't planned on going home at all but Patterson had insisted.

She'd been awake when Tasha and Reade returned from the cafeteria and after seeing the look of sheer exhaustion on her girlfriend's face had suggested Tasha go home and get some real sleep. It wasn't actually a suggestion. Patterson had threatened her.

"Natasha Zapata, you are stubborn and exhausted," Patterson had said. "You will go home and sleep or I will pull out this morphine drip."

Tasha had laughed at her until she realized the blonde was actually very serious. So, she'd agreed to let Reade give her a ride home, hidden suitcase and all, but promised to be back first thing in the morning. She hadn't actually defined what first thing in the morning was but it wasn't quite 6 a.m. yet and Tasha was just about ready to leave. There was just one more thing she needed to do.

She retrieved Patterson's Bag of Holding from the floor of the closet and proceeded to fill it with a few of the things Patterson loved: her Nintendo Switch, some Bluetooth headphones, laptop, a book of crossword puzzles (although Tasha wasn't sure if Patterson could even hold a pen), the new issue of _Popular Mechanics_ that had been waiting in the mailbox along with a scientific journal Tasha found next to the bed, the stack of new comic books from her weekly pull list, and just about every kind of charger she might need. Satisfied with the contents of the bag, Tasha grabbed a coffee from the shop down the block, hailed a cab, and returned to the hospital.

Patterson's room was still dark and Tasha was the first to arrive. She claimed the visitor's chair closest to the bed, set the Bag of Holding on a nearby table, and began absently scrolling on her phone while she drank her coffee.

"Hey," Patterson said as she yawned and attempted an awkward stretch in the bed. "Good morning."

"Hey," Tasha smiled and set her phone down. She got up from the chair and gave Patterson a small kiss. "How you feeling?"

Patterson shrugged. "Like everything is broken." She eyed the bag next to Tasha with interest, her eyes suddenly alert and sparkling. "What's in the bag, Tasha?"

"I dunno," Tasha teased, grabbing the Bag of Holding. "Just some stuff I thought you might like."

"Yeah? What'd you bring me?"

Tasha opened the bag and tipped it towards Patterson so she could see inside. Patterson reached for the bag and then realized she wouldn't be able to grab it with one hand in a cast and the other featuring a clunky metal splint. She sighed in frustration and Tasha brought the bag closer to her and started pulling items from it and setting them on the bed around the blonde.

"Ah! Tash! My pull list!" she cried in excitement. "I didn't have a chance to read these yet! And _Popular Mechanics_ , my computer! My Switch! Agh, you're the best. I was gonna go crazy in here!"

Tasha smiled. "I know," she said returning everything to the bag before setting it down on the table closest to Patterson. "Hey, I was looking for your cell phone but couldn't find it. Is it here?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen it but I haven't really been looking for it. It should have been in my bag but I don't know where that is either."

Tasha nodded. "I'll check with Reade or Weller." She sat back down in the chair beside Patterson's bed. "So, what's on your schedule for today?"

"Well, I have a yoga class at 8," Patterson joked. "Think I'll be able to do it?"

Tasha smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. "You can handle an eagle pose, right? No problem."

Patterson thought for a minute. "I haven't talked to a doctor yet," she said finally. "But I think I'm just supposed to lay here. So big fun obviously."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere," Tasha said. "You'll have company at least."

"Don't you have to," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "go back to work?"

Tasha lowered her own voice to the same level. "No," she whispered and smiled before raising her voice back to its normal volume. "I told Keaton I'd come back when I come back. I didn't really give him a choice."

"I don't want you to get in trouble or lose your job because of me," Patterson protested.

"I won't, and I'm not leaving you." She hesitated. "I told Keaton about us. So, he knows."

"Oh."

"I told Reade, too. Yesterday," Tasha said after a moment. "And Rich told me that you told him."

"I did not tell him!" Patterson protested. "He was being obnoxious and said I was grumpy. I was not. But he said I was grumpy because my 'girlfriend was gone' and I didn't exactly deny it."

Tasha smiled at this. "You were grumpy?"

"I most certainly was not."

"You were grumpy."

"Whatever. You were gone. We hadn't really gotten back together. I missed you, and Rich was annoying me," Patterson deflected. She cast a distracted look towards the wall clock. "The doctor should be here any minute."

"Sure, change the subject, Patterson," Tasha teased.

Almost as if on cue, a man in a white jacket stepped into the room carrying a clipboard. He walked purposefully to Patterson's bed and glanced briefly at Tasha.

"Miss Patterson," he said cheerfully. "It's nice to see you awake finally. I'm Dr. Lorenzo and I've been leading the effort to put you back together again." He turned to face Tasha. "Would you mind stepping out for a few moments so I can speak with W —"

"Patterson is fine," Patterson interrupted. "And Tasha can stay."

"Okay, Patterson it is," Dr. Lorenzo said, making a note on his clipboard. He looked back to Tasha who was already getting out of the chair, scooping her bag off the floor and going to Patterson's bedside. She placed a kiss on her cheek and lightly caressed the unbandaged side of her face.

"It's okay, cariño," she said. "I'm gonna go find a bathroom, and I'll text Reade to see if we can track down your bag and phone. I'll be back in a bit."

***

Tasha hated hospitals which was unfortunate because it seemed like she was constantly visiting someone in one or being admitted as a patient herself. And she had no intentions of not staying with Patterson but she'd seen the opportunity for a brief reprieve from her bedside and had taken it. She wanted to be there but it was hard seeing her girlfriend hooked up to machines and covered in bandages and braces, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the details from the doctor. And why did hospitals all have that same smell? Disinfectant and sickness.

There was a restroom a few doors down from Patterson's room and Tasha ducked inside. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she washed her hands and was surprised by how tired she still looked. Although she'd slept for about seven hours at home, exhaustion lingered in her eyes. The jetlag surely played a role in it and she knew that she should have slept longer, but more than anything it was worry for Patterson. She supposed that she'd probably look like this until she was able to bring Patterson home again.

Tasha glanced into Patterson's room as she passed and kept walking when she heard the doctor's voice. She wandered the hallways for a bit, allowing herself to become familiar with the layout. The longer she was here, the more important it would be to know where the vending machines were — there was no way she was going to eat another cafeteria meal after the last one. She found herself approaching a small gift shop and went inside. The shop was full of kitschy junk like stuffed animals in t-shirts and balloons with stupid smiley faces or big pink flowers on them. And she certainly wasn't going to get Patterson a plush singing flower.

She lingered in the corner of the shop that had been reserved for floral arrangements and bouquets, and after speaking with the clerk, decided to send flowers up to Patterson's room. After filling out the delivery information, the clerk warned her the flowers wouldn't be delivered until later in the afternoon and asked if the recipient had a scheduled checkout date.

"We don't know yet," Tasha said. "She'll be here for a while."

Admitting that Patterson would be in the hospital for a while was more difficult than anything else so far. Tasha was unconcerned with the amount of time she'd be away from her CIA op; she just wanted to bring Patterson home and take care of her.

Tasha checked the time as she left the giftshop. It was just a little bit after 8 a.m. and she thought it was late enough to text Reade.

**Have you seen Patterson's phone? Or her bag? We can't find them.**

Reade's response was almost instant.

**I've got her bag. Bring it when I stop later. Rich has her phone.**

**Why?**

**Need to clear some stuff from it.**

**Stuff? What stuff?**

Reade didn't respond. Tasha stopped just short of the doorway to Patterson's room and texted again.

**Reade?**

**Tell you when I see you.**

Tasha cocked an eyebrow at her phone and reread the messages. Reade was clearly not telling her something. Why would Rich have Patterson's cell phone? She started to put her phone away when she heard a familiar laugh from her girlfriend's room, and she quickly walked the rest of the distance to the open door.

Bill had settled into the chair Tasha previously occupied and was having a somewhat animated conversation with his daughter.

"Bill!" Tasha grinned as she walked into the room and started towards his chair. "When did you get here?"

"Tasha! It's good to see you!" Bill got to his feet and flashed a broad smile before capturing her in a giant hug. "I got here in time to have a chat with that Dr. Lorenzo whose taking care of W... Patterson. Thank you for calling me."

"Is it just you?" Tasha asked, looking around the room. It wasn't unusual for Bill to drop by without Patterson's mother but in all the times Patterson had been shot or blown up or kidnapped and tortured, she was always right there with Bill.

"Oh, Patterson's mom was presenting at a conference this morning," Bill explained. "She'll be flying in later tonight."

"Keynote speaker," Patterson added. "It's sort of a big deal."

"Wow, sounds like it," Tasha said. She grabbed a second visitor's chair and pulled it alongside Bill's chair. Bill was studying her carefully.

"So, tell me, how are you, Tasha? You look tired," he said.

"I'm good," Tasha said, sitting down. "Tired for sure though. It's been a long couple of days."

"My daughter tells me you flew here from Paris. That's exciting."

"It's just work."

"But work in Paris."

"She's never home," Patterson pouted as she stifled a yawn. The morphine was good for killing the pain from her shattered knee but it made her super sleepy. Patterson felt like she could sleep for another whole day and still not be rested.

"I'm home now," Tasha retorted.

"Only because I'm in the hospital," she replied with another yawn.

Bill's eyes sparkled the same way Patterson's did when she was excited. He looked from his daughter back to Tasha and then back to his daughter again.

"You're back together," he said and his broad smile grew impossibly larger.

Tasha glanced at Patterson who was shaking her head. "I didn't tell him," she said.

"It's an observation," Bill said. "I'm a scientist, girls. That's what I do. I observe things. You are back together. That's wonderful." He pulled Tasha into another hug.

Tasha loved chatting with Bill. He'd always been incredibly nice and sweet to her even during stressful times like this. He'd been naturally very worried when Tasha called to tell him what happened and she knew he was still worried but he never let it show. He was just as positive and animated as ever. In a lot of ways, Patterson was just like her father.

The trio made idle chitchat for a while. Bill asking about Tasha's business in Paris and Tasha telling him she couldn’t talk about it; Tasha asking Bill about his latest project and Bill getting excited and talking about it until they both noticed Patterson had fallen asleep.

"I guess we're boring her," Bill laughed quietly as he watched his daughter shift uncomfortably in her sleep.

"Don't take it personally," Tasha said. "The morphine has really been knocking her out, and I'm not sure how much she's actually slept."

Bill nodded thoughtfully. "Well, she should sleep. She's been through quite a lot," he said before turning in his seat to face Tasha. "So, how long have you two been back together?"

Tasha smiled. She knew the conversation was going to come back to this. Bill wasn't the type to leave news like this alone. He wasn't prying per say, but he'd been upset to learn about their break-up and she suspected he was the reason Patterson had started talking to her again after the fallout from the  Dragonfly case.

"A couple of months."

"Months! She never said anything. She didn't even tell me you made up," Bill said and frowned. He paused before asking his next question. "Are you two serious? About each other, I mean."

"I can't speak for Patterson," Tasha began, "but I seriously love her."

This seemed to please Bill. His frown disappeared, replaced by his contagious smile, and he was nodding again.

"Are you two thinking about maybe moving in together?"

It was Tasha's turn to smile. "Patterson gave me a key to her place and I moved in last month when my lease expired."

"So, you'll be there when she gets to leave finally?"

"That’s my plan," Tasha said. "Did the doctor say when we'd get to bring her home?"

Bill sighed, the smile once again disappearing.

"Not for a while. Maybe a week." he admitted. "Did she tell you how this all happened?"

Tasha arched an eyebrow. Patterson hadn't told her father what happened. When she'd called Bill to tell him that Patterson was in the hospital, she'd been purposefully vague with the details. She'd just told him that she'd been injured and it was work related.

"She didn't tell you?"

"No. She said it wasn't a big deal and she's fine. I shouldn't worry," Bill said. "She doesn't look fine and her mother and I do worry. The doctor said that the worst injury is her knee."

Tasha chewed her lip for a moment while she considered the question. She didn't like the idea of lying to Bill, but if Patterson didn't want him to know what had happened it wasn't her place to say anything. She settled for a half-truth.

"I wasn't here for it," Tasha said finally. "But Reade called me. Patterson's been working on solving some clues left on a thumb drive related to Jane's tattoos and she followed a lead by herself and wound up in the wrong place at the wrong time."

It wasn't exactly a lie. Tasha wasn't around when it happened and Reade had called her. It was all related to a thumb drive and she had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She wasn't going to tell Bill that the person responsible for all of this was Jane. As long as Patterson didn't give him that information, he didn't need it.

Bill nodded and said nothing. He knew there was more to the story than she was telling him but he wasn't going to press the issue. He'd already put Tasha in an awkward spot – his daughter, Tasha's girlfriend, hadn't given him the details for a reason.

"I'm glad you're here for Patterson," he said after a minute. "And I know she's glad you're here too. But how are you holding up?"

"I'm holding up," Tasha lied.

"You know," Bill began, looking back to where Patterson was still asleep, "when Patterson was a little girl, her mother and I brought home a puppy. It was a little black and white cocker spaniel, Pike. Her brother wanted nothing to do with it but Patterson just loved that dog. And it loved her. Followed her everywhere she went; waited at the bus for her after school and sat next to her while she did her homework. They were best friends. Well, Patterson went off to space camp one summer for two weeks and Pike was just miserable. She wasn't the same dog. The day we picked Patterson up at camp, Pike came running out into the road to meet the car. Unfortunately, we weren't the only car coming and Pike was hit while Patterson watched."

"That's awful," Tasha said.

"It was," Bill conceded. "But Patterson jumped out of the car and ran to Pike. Her mother and I knew the dog wasn't going to make it but we loaded her into the car and brought her to the vet. We expected Patterson to break down and cry but opposite opposite. She held that dog's paw and pet her the entire way to the veterinarian. There was nothing that could be done for Pike and we had to make the decision to euthanize her. It was the most humane thing we could do. Patterson was seven years old. She should have cried but she didn't. She just accepted it."

Tasha was nodding. "That sounds like Patterson."

"Anyways, a few days later we found her upstairs in her bedroom crying. She'd finally broken down," he said. He studied Tasha's face for a minute before continuing. "Patterson reminds me of someone else I know. Someone who maybe puts on a big brave face and takes on everything that comes her way. You know, Tasha, it's okay to not always be strong. It's okay to worry. Love is a strange thing. It makes you do all sorts of things you might not normally do or react in ways that you wouldn't otherwise. But that's what happens when you love someone. So how are you really holding up?"

Tasha laughed nervously and tucked her hair behind her ear. She looked at Patterson and then back to Bill.

"Awful," she admitted. "I've just been this big ball of, I don't even know what to call it. Ever since Reade called me and told me that Patterson was hurt I've just felt sick and helpless and so scared. And I don't know what to do for her. I don’t even know if there is something I can do for her. All I want to do is take her home and take care of her." She laughed again. "That sounds so stupid."

Bill hugged her again. Tasha couldn't decide if the hug was for her or for himself. She'd seen his face as she spoke. The feelings she was articulating must have hit close to home. He was feeling the same way.

"You should tell Patterson just how you feel. Tell her all the things you just told me," he said. "And you should tell her every single day. If what you're telling me is true, I wouldn't let her go."


	9. How Can I Stop?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patterson said nothing. She didn't know if they were still friends or if they could ever be friends again. Jane's words sounded sincere and she didn't doubt that Jane felt awful about what she'd done but they didn't make it any easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably won't drop Chapter 10 until sometime next week. The rest of this week is just a wash for me. My day job is just about to get busy again. But I will keep pushing out chapters just as quickly as I can write them.

Reade dropped Patterson's bag on his desk before turning to head towards the conference room. After Tasha's text messages, he'd intended to go right to the hospital to check in with Patterson and return her bag but then Weller called and he'd been forced to change plans. He was a few minutes early for the meeting and decided to detour to Patterson's lab to see Rich.

It was always a little weird to see Rich Dotcom running Patterson's lab but he looked completely in command there today. He was chatting with Afreen and gesturing to some paperwork she was carrying when Reade approached.

"Morning Rich, Afreen," Reade said interrupting their conversation. "Got a minute, Rich?"

Rich held a hand up to Reade and turned back to Afreen.

"Keep doing it Patterson's way," Rich told her. "If she found out I changed her plans, she'd check out of the hospital and kill me herself. "

He turned back to Reade and leaned on Patterson's desk. "What's up, Mr. Assistant Director? Any word on Patty Cakes?"

Reade put his hands in his pockets and shook his head. "I haven't had a chance to go to the hospital this morning, but Tasha texted me. She's already there," he said. "Weller asked to meet with me first but I'm gonna head over that way later. That's why I'm here. You have a chance to clean Patterson's phone yet? Tasha's asking for it."

"Uh, no," Rich said. "Not yet. It's been a little bit crazy train here with Patterson out. I'll look at it today. Tomorrow morning at the latest."

"Yeah, alright. I told Tasha we couldn't give it back yet. I can stall her for a little while."

Reade's smartwatch vibrated and he looked down to check the notification. Weller was waiting for him in the conference room. He looked back up to Rich.

"That's Weller," he explained. "I gotta do this meeting but don't forget about Patterson's phone."

***

Weller was sitting at the conference table next to Jane when Reade walked in. Neither husband nor wife were speaking and Jane's gaze was fixed on the table. She didn't look up as Reade entered.

"Hey guys," Reade said as he sat down across from Weller and noted the uncomfortable silence. "What's goin' on?"

Weller glanced at Jane who was still staring at the table and back at Reade.

"Jane spent the night in holding," Weller explained after a moment when Jane didn't respond. "She put herself there yesterday."

"So, you told her," Reade said.

Weller gave a short nod. "She watched the video."

Reade swallowed hard and looked at Jane. The video was still hard for him to think about; he couldn't imagine how hard it might be for Jane to see. He believed her when she said she didn't know how they'd gotten into that basement or who had tortured Patterson. He waited for her to say something but she remained silent and wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Jane?" Reade prodded. "You okay?"

Jane nodded her head slightly and looked up. When she saw Reade watching her she dropped her eyes again and focused on the tabletop.

"How long have I been relapsing?" she asked. Her voice shook. "What else have I done? Who else have I hurt?"

"No one," Weller assured her. "And we don't know how long you've been relapsing, but we think this is the first time you've done anything."

"But you don't know. Not for sure, " Jane said. She turned and looked at Weller. For the first time both men noticed that her eyes were puffy and red. Kurt wasn't sure he'd ever seen Jane look like that before. He wondered if she'd managed to sleep at all or if she'd just kept replaying what she'd seen on the video over and over again in her mind. He bet it was the latter.

"No, we don't," Reade admitted.

Jane looked up and held Reade's eyes. "I wanna be arrested," she said. Reade started to protest and she cut him off. "Or locked up. For what I did to Patterson. I don't care if you say it wasn't really me. Remi and I are the same person. If Remi did something that means I did something. And I did something awful. I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself. How can you trust that it won't happen again? I can't even trust myself right now."

"We can't," Weller said, drawing Jane's attention. "We don't know that it won't happen again. That's why I asked Reade for this meeting. We've got to start looking for those drives. Before this happened, Patterson had tracked one to Tokyo. Do we know enough to look for it without her?"

"I don't know," Reade said. "Rich might. He helped her decipher the clues on the drive." He pulled his phone out and sent a text to Rich.

Jane looked back down to the table again. "How is Patterson?"

"I haven't been to the hospital yet today," Reade said. "When we left last night, Patterson was awake. Injuries aside, she seemed like herself. Zapata's there right now but I haven't heard anything new yet."

A thought gnawed at Jane's mind at Reade's mention of Zapata. She felt like there was a memory there but she couldn't quite retrieve it. It hadn't happened when she saw Tasha at the hospital the previous day. It was only the mention of her name. She couldn't shake the feeling that she'd forgotten something important.

"I didn't do anything to Zapata, did I?" Jane asked after a moment. "I have this feeling...I don’t know what it is but it's something about Zapata. Like I've forgotten something important. I can't shake it."

Weller and Reade exchanged a look. They didn't know what she was talking about.

"Tasha's fine," Weller said. "This is the first time any of us have seen her in months."

That didn't sound right. Jane was sure she'd seen Tasha before the hospital. Just like that gnawing thought, she couldn't place when or where or if she actually had seen her at all. Jane felt like she was losing control of her own mind and it terrified her.

Rich pulled open the conference room door, carrying one of the lab's tablets.

"You rang?" he asked in his best-failed attempt at an impression of Lurch from the _Addams Family_.

Reade shook his head and frowned. "That drive in Tokyo," he began, swiveling his char around to look at Rich. He gestured for him to sit. "Do we know enough about it to go after it without Patterson?"

Rich sat down next to Reade and set the tablet down.

"Maybe," he began. "I mean, I know I took the credit for this one but she was really the brains behind my beauty. We've got a location narrowed down to a specific shrine but we'd planned on doing some on-scene puzzle solving. I can give it a crack. And maybe, if Patsy Patts is up to it, we can call her if we get stuck?"

Weller shook his head. "I don't like that. Calling Patterson while she's in the hospital, I mean. She's been through a lot. This might not be the best time to take her off the bench."

"It's Patterson," Reade said. "You know she won't want to sit anything out. She never does."

"Maybe we won't need her," Rich suggested. "But you can't make this kind of decision for her."

Reade nodded thoughtfully. "I can't believe I'm agreeing with Rich, but he's right. We need to talk to Patterson before we decide on anything." He started out of his chair. "I'm on my way to the hospital now."

Weller got to his feet. "We'll go with you," he said, gesturing to Jane.

Jane jumped out of her chair and grabbed her husband's arm. "No, Kurt. I can't go back there. I can't see Patterson. And I don't think she'll want to see me either."

"What are you gonna do, Jane?" Weller asked as he turned back to face her. "Avoid Patterson forever?"

"No," Jane admitted. "I just don't know if I should. It's my fault she's in there to begin with. I don't know if I can face her."

"Look, Jane," Reade began, "I know this isn't easy, but you're a part of this team and this investigation. And so is Patterson. I know I told you I don't want you flying to Tokyo, but we might not have a choice. The ZIP poisoning seems like it's accelerating, and if we want to get ahead of this and put a stop to it, we're going to need everyone on board. If you don't want to go see Patterson, fine. But you're going to the hospital. I need a doctor to give you the greenlight to fly."

Jane furrowed her brow. "What about Remi? What if we're in Tokyo and I relapse?"

"Let's talk to a doctor first," Reade said.

***

The sudden smell of Thai food woke Patterson and Tasha at almost the same time. At first, Patterson was completely disoriented by the hospital bed and the smell of definitely not hospital food and she looked around confused.

"Is smelling curry a sign of stroke?" Tasha asked as she blinked away sleep. She hadn't realized she was even tired but sometime after her conversation with Bill she must have fallen asleep. She rubbed at the stiff neck that was settling in from her awkward nap in the chair.

"No, that's almonds," Patterson said. "Do you smell almonds?"

"No," Tasha replied. "Definitely just curry."

Bill laughed good naturedly at their confusion and set a bag of take-out Thai on a small table. "You both fell asleep but this old man was getting hungry. The nurses said you didn't have any dietary restrictions so I picked us up some lunch."

"Bill, you are the greatest," Tasha said as she helped him pull containers from the paper bag. "I've eaten in the cafeteria. Believe me when I say you definitely don't want to do that."

"Seriously, Dad," Patterson said. "You're amazing."

Bill chuckled as he filled a paper plate for Patterson and swung the bed's table in front of her. "Can you handle a fork?" he asked. "Or do I have to feed you like when you were a child?"

Patterson rolled her eyes. "I can still use my left hand. It's just a little awkward." She took a forkful of food and closed her eyes. "Oh my god. I almost forgot food could taste like actual food," she groaned.

"The hospital food can't be that bad," Bill said as he filled a plate for himself.

"No, it's that bad," Tasha assured him as he sat down in the chair next to her and began to eat.

They were about halfway through their meal when a man carrying an arrangement of sunflowers and purple wildflowers ducked his head into the room, checked the name on his clipboard against the name on the chart attached to the foot of Patterson's bed, and set the vase down among the containers of Thai food.

"Who are those from?" Patterson asked as the man headed back to the door.

He shrugged. "I just make deliveries. There should be a card."

Patterson looked to her father and Tasha. She couldn't reach the flowers herself to check for a card.

"Don't look at me," Bill said. "Your mother gave me strict orders not to send you flowers until she could be here to approve them."

"Tash?"

Tasha blushed and nodded. She'd hoped they would arrive when Patterson was alone or when it was just the two of them. She loved Patterson but she felt silly admitting in front of her father that she'd sent flowers.

"You are so soft," Patterson teased, a grin spreading across her face. "First the star chart, now flowers? Watch out Zapata. The world's only living heart donor is starting to get a bad reputation."

"Oh, whatever," Tasha retorted. "You're in the hospital. You're supposed to send flowers to people in the hospital. I am not soft."

"The softest," Patterson replied.

"You like them?"

Patterson nodded. "They're my favorites and they're beautiful. Thank you."

Bill got up from his chair and collected the empty plates, throwing them in the trash before packaging up the leftover food and returning it to the paper bag.

"Well, ladies," he said. "I'm going to leave you for a bit. I have a hotel room a few blocks away that's waiting for me. I'm going to go check in, drop these leftovers in the fridge, and get cleaned up."

"You're leaving already?" Patterson said, not bothering to hide her disappointment.

"I'll be back," Bill replied and pressed a kiss to Patterson's forehead. "I'll pick up your mother when her flight gets in and we'll come back together a little later. I think you should probably get a bit more sleep and you don't need your father kicking around. I think you're in pretty capable hands."

Tasha got to her feet and gave Bill a hug.

"Thank you for coming so quickly," she said. "And thank you for lunch. You have no idea how much we both appreciate it."

Bill hugged her back. "You're welcome," he said and then dropped his voice to a whisper. "Take care of her, okay? She won't let you but try anyway. I'll be back in a few hours."

Patterson watched as her father picked up the bag of Thai food and headed out the door. When he was gone, she levelled her gaze at Tasha.

"What did he just say to you?" she asked, eyeing her warily.

"Nothing," Tasha said as she settled into the chair Bill had just left. It was just a bit closer to Patterson's bedside and that's where she wanted to be. "He just told me to take care of you."

"I'm fine, Tash," Patterson said. "Really. You both worry too much."

Tasha crossed her legs and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She nodded. "You're right, I do worry. This scared the hell out of me. I love you and I don’t want to lose you again."

"Tash —"

"No, Patterson. I've messed this up before, and I don't wanna do that again," Tasha continued. "When Reade called me and told me what happened, it felt like my whole world was crumbling. I didn't know what to do but I knew I needed to get here and I couldn't get here fast enough. I should have been here. If I hadn't been traveling, maybe this wouldn't have happened. We could have stopped it. We could have stopped her. I cannot lose you. And if I could go back to that day in California, I would. I'd shut my stupid mouth and we wouldn’t have talked about it and we never would have broken up. I'd do so many things differently but I wouldn't let you go. So, yes, I worry about you."

"Tash," Patterson began quietly. "You don't have to worry about me. I know right now it seems like you do but I promise I'm gonna be fine. And I love that you want to be here and I wish we had done things differently but you need to take care of yourself, too."

"I am," Tasha objected. "I went home. I slept in a bed like you demanded and I ate something that didn't come out of the cafeteria. I even took a shower."

Patterson was nodding. "That's good, Tash, but you can't blame yourself for any of what happened. This could have happened even if you were still FBI and working in the NYO. What I need is for you to be kind to yourself because I will need you. And I can't take care of you while I'm stuck in this hospital."

"I don't know what to do, Patterson," Tasha admitted. "I feel completely helpless. And I hate that."

"I know," Patterson laughed. She knew as well as anyone that Tasha liked having something she could control, something to act on. With Patterson in the hospital and under the care of doctors, there wasn't much Tasha could do so she was doing the only thing she could: she was spending every moment she could with Patterson.

Neither spoke for a minute and Patterson thought back to when she lost David. She'd been shocked by his sudden death and overwhelmed with guilt that she had played any part in it. For a long time after David and then after Borden, Patterson thought she'd never find love again and if she did, she'd be too afraid of it to embrace it. Somehow, she got lucky. She smiled at this thought.

"What?" Tasha asked. "What are you smiling about?"

"I was just thinking," Patterson explained. "When I was with David, every time things felt like they were getting too big or too serious, I pushed him away. That's part of why... why he was out there that day. I wasted all this energy on coming up with reasons why we couldn't work, why we were moving too quickly. And then he was gone. I never got the chance to just love him without overthinking it or putting up a wall. After David and then Borden, I thought I was done. I never thought I'd be lucky enough to fall in love again, and if I did, I'd be too afraid and I'd run from it. I never felt like I needed to run from you."

Tasha got out of her chair and sat on the edge of Patterson's bed, careful not to hit the brace wrapping around her knee. She took Patterson's casted hand, watching her reaction for any sign of pain, before leaning down to kiss her lips.

"I love you, Tasha," Patterson said when Tasha finally broke the kiss.

They sat in silence for a few minutes and Tasha ran her thumb over Patterson's cast in an old familiar gesture she was finding hard to break. She'd run her thumb over Patterson's knuckles so many times during their serious conversations.

"Do you want to talk about it? About what happened?" she asked finally. She realized she'd asked Patterson how she was feeling and all about her diagnosis but she'd never actually asked her about what happened. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know and was even less sure if Patterson would want to talk about it but she had to ask.

Patterson shook her head. "No. I really don't."

"Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent," Patterson replied. "After David, Mayfair made me talk to Borden. It didn't help. After Borden, I talked to Dr. Sun. That really didn't help. Talking about it has never helped. This is just something that happened to me. And it was horrible and awful but, what's there to talk about? It happened. It's over and now I get to move on."

***

Reade and Weller sat silently in the waiting room for Jane to reemerge from the examination room. They'd barely spoken since leaving the NYO. In all honesty, neither knew what to say. Weller was still attempting to process what his wife had done and Reade was blaming himself for not taking Patterson's concerns about Remi more seriously. Maybe if he'd listened to her sooner this wouldn't have happened.

The door to the exam room opened and Jane stepped through the doorway trailed by the doctor who'd made her initial ZIP poisoning diagnosis. She didn't have quite the same grim expression on her face as she did in the conference room. Weller thought he might actually have seen a small spark of relief there. Both men got to their feet as the duo approached.

"Well?" Weller asked.

"I don't see any reason why Jane can't travel," the doctor said. "Theoretically, the change in air pressure could trigger a bleed but millions of people fly every day. Many of them don't even know they have an aneurysm and they're fine. I'd recommend staying away from blood thinners like aspirin and limit stimulants like coffee or soda before flying, but I'd say she could make a trip."

"Even a long one to Japan?" Reade asked.

The doctor nodded. "Sure."

"What about the relapses?" Jane asked. Worry had crept back into her face.

"Have you experienced memory relapses?"

"Yeah," Jane said, shifting her gaze back to the floor. "At least one that I know of."

"Okay, well I can see how that would be a bit disconcerting. This isn't a sure thing or anything but there are a couple of flags you can keep an eye out for."

"Like?" Jane asked.

"Headaches," the doctor began. "They might be sudden and intense. Sudden fatigue. You could experience either of these symptoms without a relapse but studies are finding that in cases where patients are experiencing memory relapses, the symptom never appears on its own. Frequently, the patient gets a cluster-type headache or gets so tired they could just fall asleep where they stand. The relapses aren't harmful, though, but if you're driving a car or cooking you might want to pay attention to the symptoms so you can pull over or turn off a flame or set down a knife. But, like I said, the relapses are benign. Just symptomatic of the ZIP poisoning."

Neither Jane nor Weller or Reade wanted to tell the doctor that while the relapses themselves may be harmless, the memories that accompanied them did not seem to be. They thanked the doctor for his time and waited for him to walk away.

"I can control this," Jane said suddenly. She felt some optimism. "The headaches and the fatigue. I can go to lock-up —"

"You're gonna go to lock-up every time you get a headache?" Reade asked incredulously. "I'd have to live in there if it was me."

"Yes," Jane insisted. "If that means protecting all of you from Remi, then yes."

"Jane don't you think —" Weller began.

"It's not your decision, Kurt," Jane interrupted. "You want my help on this case? Those are my terms. Lock me up when I tell you to. It's the only way I can be sure you're all safe."

***

Jane hesitated outside of Patterson's door. She may have been given an all-clear from the doctor but she wasn't sure if she was ready to face her friend knowing what she had done. She wondered how Patterson would react to her.

"You don't have to do this," Weller told her when he saw her stop. "It's okay."

Jane shook her head. "No. I need to see her. I have to..." She wanted to say "apologize" but the word felt flimsy in comparison to Remi's actions. No apology would ever be sufficient.

"You're sure?" Reade asked.

"Yeah."

Reade entered Patterson's hospital room first. Tasha was sitting in the visitor's chair with a crossword puzzle book and pen in her hand. She was reading the clues to Patterson and letting the blonde tell her what words to fill in. Patterson saw Reade enter and she gave him a big smile.

"Hey! Reade!"

He smiled back and held her bag up. "Looking for this?"

"Well, yeah. It's got my keys in it and my wallet. How will I go home?" She grinned at her own joke. Her face fell then as Weller entered the room with Jane in tow.

Patterson's chest suddenly felt tight. She struggled to take a breath but couldn't suck in enough air. The room felt impossibly small and her mind urged her to move, to pace, to get away but of course, she couldn't. Her heart started to race and the slow, steady beeping of her cardiac monitor became quick and erratic. Sweat slicked the palms of her hands, and the full bore of a panic attack began to settle over her. Her frantic eyes fell on Tasha who was already getting out of her chair and moving towards her.

"Hey," Tasha whispered, her voice calm and comforting. She'd never seen Patterson have a panic attack before but there was no mistaking what was happening. She recognized the symptoms from her own attacks she'd had as a child and teenager. Tasha sat down on the edge of the bed as Patterson turned her head to look past her at her new visitors. "Patterson, hey, look at me. Just me." She put a gentle hand on Patterson's cheek and turned her face back to her own. "No. Don't look at them. Look at me. Just focus on me and take a couple of breaths with me, okay?"

Patterson nodded, her eyes wide and pupils fully dilated. She grabbed for Tasha's arm with her left hand to try to simply hold onto something and scratched her girlfriend's arm with the edge of the metal splint. Tasha noticed Patterson's gaze fall on the slight prick of blood that had formed on her arm and she cupped her chin, pulling the blonde's attention back to her face. She didn't care that her friends were there and watching this interaction. The only thing that mattered right now was getting Patterson to relax again. She kissed her softly and caressed the uninjured side of Patterson's face.

"It's okay," she said. "Patterson, you're okay. I'm okay. I'm here with you and I love you. You're safe, and everything is okay. Just keep looking at me, focus on my face and breathe with me. Just a couple of slow, steady breaths, okay? Estas bien, estas bien. Te tengo. Te quiero, te quiero mucho." Tasha hadn't meant to slip into Spanish as she whispered words of comfort to her girlfriend but at some point, it just came out. She knew Patterson didn't understand most of what she was saying but the melodic rhythm of her words seemed to hold the blonde's focus.

The cardiac monitor slowly began to emit steadier beeps after a few moments and Patterson felt the pressure around her chest dissipate. She was able to breathe a little bit easier.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her face flushing slightly with embarrassment. "I haven't had a panic attack like that since David died."

Tasha kissed her again and gave her a smile. "It's okay, hermosa. You have nothing to apologize for. Are you okay?"

Patterson nodded and squeezed Tasha's arm. She licked her lips. "Yeah, I just... Jane," she said simply, flicking her gaze to where Jane stood in the doorway alongside Weller and then dropping her eyes back to the small scratch that now appeared on Tasha's arm.

She was conflicted about Jane. On the one hand, Patterson knew that it wasn't Jane who had done this to her. Jane was her friend. She'd saved her life on multiple occasions. They'd spent countless hours together laughing, drinking, and hanging out. She'd even officiated her wedding to Weller. But on the other, you couldn't separate Jane and Remi. Remi was Jane. They were the same person even if they weren't. It didn't matter much. When Patterson closed her eyes, it was Jane's face, twisted into a mask of rage and hate, that she saw. It made no difference that behind her face, it was Remi and not Jane.

A nurse hustled into the room and pushed past Reade, Weller, and Jane. She'd heard the erratic output from the cardiac machine.

"She's okay," Tasha told her. "It was a panic attack. We've got it under control now."

The nurse studied the machine's output for a moment. It had returned to its normal readings. She turned back to Patterson, pulling her stethoscope from around her neck and settling the ends in her ears. After a quick check on Patterson's now under-control respiration and heart rate, she turned to Tasha who was still sitting on the edge of the bed and gave her a stern look.

"A panic attack?"

Tasha nodded.

"Panic attack," Patterson confirmed. "I'm okay. I swear."

Tasha thought the nurse was about to reprimand her but instead she made a note on Patterson's chart and left the room without another word.

Jane watched Patterson silently and felt a wave of gut-wrenching guilt for causing the reaction. She knew her presence had triggered the panic attack, and she wanted to run out of the room and hide. This was why she didn't want to go inside in the first place. Aside from her friend's reaction, however, Jane was rapt by the interaction between her and Tasha. And then that gnawing feeling inside of her stopped gnawing.

A memory flickered into Jane's mind. It was fragmented, but she remembered seeing Tasha Zapata entering and exiting Patterson's apartment nearly every morning for a week. She saw Tasha greet Patterson one evening with a kiss before dragging her off into the building. Patterson and Tasha were a couple, Jane realized, and she wondered how long they'd been together. Her own words (or perhaps Remi's words) echoed back at her then: _I know you're fucking her. That you eat her pussy and thank her when she comes on your face_. Crimson creeped up Jane's neck and tinted her cheeks. It felt like such an invasion of their privacy and she was mortified by it. She dropped her gaze from the couple and stared at the floor.

"Is it okay if we come in?" Reade asked.

Tasha looked back to Patterson and was prepared to run interference but her girlfriend was nodding.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "It's okay." She squeezed Tasha's arm again as the brunette got up from the bed and returned to her position in the visitor's chair.

Tasha bit her lower lip as she realized that this was the first time the team had seen her and Patterson together and two of them didn't know they were even a couple.

"So, um, about that," Tasha began. "Patterson and I—"

"Tasha's my girlfriend. We live together, and I love her," Patterson interrupted quickly and fixed Jane with a cold stare as if daring her to say something.

Tasha nodded. "What she said."

Weller blinked in surprise. He'd seen the same thing the rest of them had but he hadn't thought anything of it. Tasha and Patterson were best friends. But then Patterson just blurted it out. He needed a second to recover.

"Okay," he said slowly. "Did I miss something? Did everyone else know this?"

"I just found out yesterday," Reade admitted.

"Oh."

Tasha glanced at Patterson again for approval or confirmation, she wasn't sure which, before speaking again. "We started dating when you and Jane got married but we broke up when Patterson moved to California. We just started dating again a few months ago."

"Oh," Weller said again. "Okay."

Reade cleared his throat. He was beginning to feel awkward. They weren't here to talk about Patterson and Tasha's love life.

"So, how are you, Patterson?"

Patterson licked her lips and turned her attention back to Reade. It was easier to focus on him than all three of them. If she focused on Reade, she didn't have to look at Jane.

"I'll be okay," she said honestly. "I mean, everything fucking hurts, but I'll be okay. I get to go home in a few days. A week, at most. And the brace comes off my knee in six weeks. Allegedly."

"Six weeks, huh?"

"That's the rumor," Patterson said.

"That drive in Tokyo that you think you found," Reade began, "we need to track it down as soon as possible. It's a key part to slowing or stopping Jane's ZIP poisoning, and that's obviously progressing more quickly than we anticipated."

"I can go as soon as I leave the hospital," Patterson said. "I just need to pack."

Tasha snapped her head around to stare at Patterson. "No."

"Tash," Patterson objected.

"No, Patterson. Are you out of your mind? You can't go wandering around Tokyo, you can't even sit up in bed by yourself."

"Tasha's right," Weller interrupted. "You can't go to Tokyo in a few days. You'll probably be in a wheelchair."

"I want to go," Patterson said, looking to Reade. "I can help, Reade."

Reade sighed. There was no way he was going to allow Patterson to travel to Japan in a few days. He shook his head.

"Tasha and Weller are right, Patterson," he said. "I know you want to go but that's a terrible idea right now. We can delay the trip. Or we can bring Rich and put you on comms."

It was Patterson's turn to sigh and she turned away from them. She knew she couldn't go and was more frustrated with her situation than she was with Reade's decision.

"We don't need to decide anything right now," Weller said.

"Fine," Patterson replied.

The room fell silent for a moment as they waited for Patterson to say more. They each knew it wasn't fine. Instead of jumping back into the argument again, Patterson turned her head to look at Jane. The tattooed woman hadn't said a word since entering the room and she'd barely looked away from the tile she was intently studying on the floor. Patterson spoke quietly.

"Can I talk to Jane for a minute? Alone?"

Tasha turned again to look at Patterson. "Are you sure?"

Patterson nodded. "Yeah. You wanted me to talk about it. I think I need to," she said. She saw the worry crease Tasha's brow. "It's okay. I'll be alright."

Tasha said nothing for a long moment before turning back to look at Reade and Weller. She got out of her chair and headed towards the door. She turned back and looked at Patterson again and the blonde gave her a nod and small smile. Reade and Weller wordlessly followed Tasha out of the room.

"You can sit if you want," Patterson said to Jane when the room was finally empty, and she waited for the other woman to move across the room and sit in the chair next to the one Tasha had just vacated. She watched Jane for a moment and it was one of the few times she'd seen the other woman appear unsure of herself and frightened. Patterson took a deep breath. "It's okay, Jane. I'm not going to yell and I don’t want to make you feel any worse than you already do. I just want to talk to you."

Jane looked up and saw Patterson covered in bandages and looked away. She'd done that to her. She felt herself pale.

"I'm sorry, Patterson," she whispered, looking down at the floor. "I'm so sorry for everything."

Patterson considered this for a moment and nodded. "I know." She paused and decided to just be honest with Jane. "I'm afraid of you. Well, not you, I guess but afraid of Remi. She's terrifying. That's who you used to be?"

Jane tore her gaze away from the floor and looked at Patterson. "Yes. I mean, I don't remember most of my life as Remi but I've had flashes, fragments of memories. I think I was worse than Shepherd."

"I think you're right," Patterson said. "Not that you should be proud of that but I've spent time with Remi and Shepherd. Shepherd was ruthless but Remi was unpredictable, calculating, and terrifying."

Jane swallowed hard. She appreciated that Patterson was talking to her and referring to Remi rather than blaming her but it was still very difficult to hear her friend talk to her so plainly about the torture her family had put her through.

"I am so sorry, Patterson," Jane said again. "I would never have done that —"

"I know," Patterson said, cutting her off. "You didn't remember doing any of this, did you?"

Jane shook her head. "Kurt told me. There was a video. I've had a few flashbacks."

Patterson nodded. "Yeah. Remi kept asking for the drives and everything I knew about them, but I don't think that's what she really wanted. It seemed like she was having fun."

"Oh, Jesus, Patterson," Jane began, preparing to launch into another apology. Patterson cut her off by holding up her hand.

"Please, Jane. Stop apologizing. You and I both know that there aren't enough words to cover what happened and how we both feel about it," she said.

"No," Jane said. "I have at least one more apology. Please."

"You don't have to," Patterson replied.

"I do." Jane waited to see if Patterson was going to interrupt again and when she didn't she took a deep breath. "Remi said something about you and Zapata. I think she'd been watching your place for a few days. I have a memory of seeing Zapata coming and going from your apartment and you two kissing."

"I remember what she said," Patterson said. Her voice went icy. It was one of the very clear and lucid memories she had.

"I'm so sorry about what she said. I'm happy for you two. Tasha seems like she really loves you. And I know, after David..." She trailed off. "I am happy for you. What Remi said, what I said, was out of line and awful. I wish I could take it back. I wish I could take it all back."

Patterson looked down. It sounded ridiculous but of all the things that Remi had done to her, listening to her talk about Tasha had been one of the worst and Jane seemed to know it.

"Thank you."

"I know we're probably not friends anymore and I would understand if you don't want to help with the drives or work with me at all," Jane said. "But I am so sorry for what's happened. I never would have wanted for any of this to happen. And I'll never be able to apologize enough but I am so sorry."

Patterson said nothing. She didn't know if they were still friends or if they could ever be friends again. Jane's words sounded sincere and she didn't doubt that Jane felt awful about what she'd done but they didn't make it any easier. She wasn't willing to stop working on the drives, though. Roman had left them behind for a reason and he wouldn't have given Jane a drive if he wasn't sure that a cure for their ZIP poisoning could be found. If they could cure it, if Patterson could solve the puzzle, they might be able to get rid of Remi forever. _Or we could be stuck with her_ , Patterson thought.

"I'm part of this team," Patterson said. "We'll finish what we started."


	10. Calling Agent Z

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasha started back towards Patterson's room but the vibration of her cell phone halted her. She pulled her phone back out and expected to see Keaton's name on the caller ID again. Blake Crawford.

After Patterson's panic attack, Tasha was reluctant to leave the room let alone the hospital. Patterson had insisted she was okay, though, and she wanted to speak to Jane. Alone. Tasha had grudgingly left the room with Weller and Reade but now she was pacing up and down the hallway in wild frustration. She gave Patterson a ton of credit for being willing to even speak with Jane; she was still unable to do that herself. But being in the hallway waiting to be invited back in was hard. She couldn't hear any yelling or any conversation at all really, and her imagination was running away with her. What if it wasn't really Jane in the room with Patterson? What if it was Remi back to finish the job? She glared at Weller as she paced. He should never have brought her back to the hospital.

"Tasha," Reade called to her as she passed the chair he was sitting in for the fifth time. "Would you stop that? Just sit down. Patterson's fine. They're just talking."

Tasha abruptly stopped pacing and walked back to face Reade. She felt a wave of rage ready to burst free and she had to bite it back. Weller spoke before she had the chance to respond.

"I know you don't trust Jane and it's hard to look at her without thinking about what Remi did," he said. "It probably won't make you feel better, but she put herself in holding last night. She's insisting on sleeping there because she can't trust herself."

"Well, that makes two of us," Tasha replied derisively. "Do you trust her?"

Weller didn't respond immediately. Jane was his wife and he trusted Jane but he knew Tasha wasn't talking about Jane as they knew her. With her memory relapses, could any of them trust her? He shook his head finally.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Jane I trust, but like this? I don't know."

Tasha's cell phone vibrated in her pocket and she fished it out, glancing at the caller ID. _Keaton_. Great timing.

"I have to take this," she said.

She walked quickly down the hallway and around a corner before accepting the call.

"Zapata," she said quietly, still not completely confident that her conversation wouldn't be overheard.

"Hey, Tasha. It's Jake."

"Yeah, I saw that," she replied.

"I'm guessing you're still in New York," he said. "And you can't talk, right?"

Tasha looked around. Her friends hadn't followed her.

"I've got a few minutes," she said.

"How's Patterson?" Jake asked. "She okay?"

_Great_ , Tasha thought. _Small talk. Perfect._

"Yeah, she'll be okay. A few broken fingers, a shattered kneecap, stab wound in the lower thigh. Everything else is minor."

Keaton let out a low whistle. "Wow. Who'd she piss off?"

Tasha hesitated. If she told Keaton the truth, he'd be smug about it. After all, he was the one who oversaw Jane's interrogation at the black site and was aghast that the FBI's judgement was so poor that they continued working with a suspected known terrorist.

"I get it," Keaton said before she could reply. "You can't say anything. Okay, so listen then. I got a call from one of our embeds in Paris. It seems that young Miss Crawford is looking for her trusted friend and adviser Julie. You need to call her and check in."

"I'll call tonight," Tasha said. "Anything else?"

"When you comin' back, Tasha?"

"I don't know. Patterson's supposed to leave the hospital in a few days and I wanna get her home and settled first."

"Do your friends know?"

"Know what?"

"About you. What you've been up to. Where you've been the last few months," Keaton explained as if it should have been obvious.

"Oh," Tasha replied. She was relieved he was talking about work and not her relationship with Patterson. Talking to Reade about it was one thing. Talking to Keaton about it was quite another. "No. They don't know. I haven't said anything and no one has asked. Yet."

"Good. Keep it that way," Keaton said. "Call Blake."

He disconnected the call before Tasha could respond and she was left staring at the phone for a minute. She'd worked with Jake for more than a year and it still felt like he was always working some kind of angle. She shoved the phone back in her pocket and took a minute to think up a cover story for the call. She knew Reade and Weller would wonder what prompted her to walk away to take the call when she'd barely been able to walk five feet from Patterson's door just a few minutes earlier.

Tasha started back towards Patterson's room but the vibration of her cell phone halted her. She pulled her phone back out and expected to see Keaton's name on the caller ID again. _Blake Crawford._ She considered letting the call go to voicemail and then remembered Keaton saying one of their Paris embeds warned him that Blake was looking for her. She took a deep breath and answered.

"Hi Blake. I'm so sorry I haven't called you lately. I had a small family emergency," Tasha semi-lied. Patterson, Reade, and Weller were like her family. Up until Jane flipped the switch and became Remi, she would have put her in that category as well.

"It's okay, Julie," Blake replied. "I was just getting worried. Is everything okay?"

"Sure, yeah," Tasha lied again, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she turned a slow circle in the hospital hallway to make sure Reade hadn't decided to come looking for her.

Blake was silent for a second. "Are you sure? You don't sound like everything's okay."

Tasha sighed. "A really good friend of mine was in an accident. She's in the hospital. She'll be fine but it's just been a stressful few days. That's all."

This half-truth seemed to appease Blake and Tasha could almost hear the smile. "I'm so sorry to hear about your friend. That's terrible. But if there's anything I can do for you..."

"Thanks, Blake. I appreciate that," Tasha replied.

"Of course," Blake replied. "But the reason I'm calling is that I'm in New York."

"You're in New York?" Tasha repeated. She tried to keep the surprise out of her voice but was confident she failed.

"Yeah, I had a charity thing at the Met, and I know you're in New York. Is there any chance we can meet? I'd really like to sit down with you and talk."

Tasha didn't know what to say. For the sake of her op and her cover, she needed to say yes. If Keaton found out Blake wanted to meet with her but she'd said no, she probably would lose her job. For real this time.

"I know you're probably all kinds of stressed out right now but I can come to you," Blake offered. "Send me your address. I'll stop by in a few hours?"

"Um," Tasha began. "Okay. I'm still at the hospital right now but I can meet you in a couple of hours."

"Great! I'll see you then."

For the second time in a few minutes Tasha was staring at her phone. She wasn't sure what had just happened but she couldn't help but wonder if Keaton had been behind Blake's sudden call. She sent Blake a quick text with her address and then it suddenly hit her what had just happened: Blake Crawford was going to the apartment she shared with Patterson in a few hours. Shit.

Tasha shoved her phone in her pocket and nearly ran back to Patterson's room. She pushed past Reade and Weller who were now standing talking to Jane and shut the door as soon as she was inside.

"I have a problem." Tasha whispered as she dropped into the chair next to Patterson's bed.

Patterson arched an eyebrow.

"What's goin on, Tash? Everything okay?"

Tasha shook her head. "No, no, no, no," she replied, nearly chanting the word. "I just got a phone call from Blake Crawford."

"What?!" Patterson yelled.

"Patterson! Shhhh," Tasha cried. She heard the hysteria in her own voice and nearly jumped out of her chair to clamp a hand over her girlfriend's mouth. "Okay, so I have to tell you this. That's the op I left in Paris. And you cannot repeat this, I swear, Patterson. I'm working at HCI Global for Blake Crawford as an adviser. She thinks my name is Julie Paige and that I'm not CIA and now she's in New York and she wants to meet up. "

"Julie Paige," Patterson repeated and frowned. "That was your cover in Croatia. Oh my god! That was why your comms went down. You've been working this since Croatia."

Tasha nodded. "I know. It sounds bad," she said. "I told you that your equipment didn't fail. I did it. We've been laying the groundwork for this for months. But I need you to focus on my problem here, Patterson. Blake wants to meet me. At my place. Well, our place. In a few hours. What am I gonna do?"

"You have to go," Patterson said. "Go home and meet with Blake. Why does she think you're in the city?"

"I told her a friend was in an accident and was in the hospital."

"Okay, good cover. It's sort of true, and if you seem frazzled she'll think you're just worried about your friend," Patterson said. Her voice was calm. "Just go home. Oh! Hide the pictures of you and I."

Tasha frowned and raised her eyebrows. "I don't think Blake is gonna care who I'm sleeping with, Patterson," she replied.

"No! Not that," Patterson said. "After you signed your exit paperwork, we brought Blake and her lawyer in for questioning. We were looking for her father. She'll recognize me and it'll blow your cover."

"Okay, good. Good tip," Tasha said. She was feeling slightly less panicked. Patterson always had an amazing calming effect on her. She got out of the chair and kissed Patterson quickly. "I have to go. I will be back. I promise."

***

Tasha burst through the door of the apartment she shared with Patterson and immediately scanned the room. Her eye caught on the wall clock. Blake would be there in just about 45 minutes.

She dropped her purse on the couch and began picking up everything she could find that might raise an eyebrow or initiate a question. She scooped up Patterson's video game charging station and shoved it behind the couch. The pile of comic books on the coffee table was unceremoniously dumped into the bedroom closet. She snatched up a series of framed photos of the two of them from a side table and shoved them in a drawer. After a few harried moments of searching and hiding, Tasha took a walk through of the apartment, grabbing random items that might seem out of character for her.

Patterson's periodic table of elements coasters found a new home in a kitchen drawer and the bumper sticker of the bisexual flag they'd picked up at a Pride event was pulled from its magnet on the refrigerator and hidden in a pile of bills on the kitchen counter. Finally satisfied that the apartment was presentable, Tasha stole another glance at the clock. There was just enough time to grab a quick shower and change. She was halfway to the bathroom when she heard a knock on the apartment's door.

Tasha knew in an instant it was Blake. She didn't need to check; she just knew. That knock belonged to Blake Crawford. She groaned quietly before screwing on her Julie Paige smile, giving herself a boost of pep, and going to the door and checking the peephole. Blake stood on the other side of the door, clutching her purse with both hands in front of her as she looked up and down the hallway.

"Blake!" Tasha smiled as she opened the door. "Thanks for coming to me. I've just been such a mess."

"Oh, of course, Julie. I'm so sorry about your friend," Blake said as she walked into the apartment and gave Tasha a hug. They separated after a brief moment and Blake looked around. "Cute apartment."

"Thanks," Tasha said, closing the door. "It's such a disaster. I've barely been here except to eat and sleep."

The apartment wasn't a disaster. Not even close. Patterson was the neatest person Tasha had ever met. If there was a mess, it was because Tasha had created it.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Tasha asked as she lead Blake towards the kitchen. "I've got it all."

Tasha hoped she had it all. Since coming back, she hadn't even opened the refrigerator. Knowing Patterson, however, she'd refilled the wine rack since the last time Tasha was home and the liquor cabinet was well stocked. She wagered there were at least two types of juice and two brands of beer and a number of bottles of water.

"I'd love red wine if you have it," Blake said as she followed Tasha into the kitchen. She watched as Tasha pulled a bottle of red from the rack and retrieved the corkscrew from a drawer.

"Could you grab some glasses from the cabinet behind you?" Tasha asked.

Blake pulled two glasses down and set them on the counter beside Tasha before stepping further into the kitchen.

"This is a really cute apartment," Blake said as she looked around "How long have you lived here?"

Tasha passed a glass of wine to Blake and jammed the cork back into the bottle. "About a month?" she said absently.

"Really?" Blake asked in surprise. "Wow. You must be the world's fastest unpacker. It takes me forever to move into new places. Even when I travel, it takes me days just to empty my suitcase."

Tasha took a sip of wine to give herself a moment to recover.

"I had a lot of help from friends," she said.

Blake had her back to Tasha and was studying a collection of postcards on the refrigerator from Tasha's travels. She brought her glass to her lips and froze. She tapped a photograph held up by a Yoda magnet.

"That woman," she said and turned to face Tasha. "How do you know her?"

Tasha set her glass down and looked at the photo Blake had tapped. She'd somehow missed it on her sweep of the apartment. It was a shot of her and Patterson at Jane and Weller's wedding that Jane had taken when they weren't looking. They were smiling and laughing at something.

"That was taken at a friend's wedding," Tasha explained. "I don't really know her that well. We were just sitting at the same table."

Blake set her glass down and crossed her arms. She studied Tasha for a silent moment.

"You don't really know her but you keep her photo on your refrigerator?" she asked incredulously. "Julie? I've met that woman before. She works for the FBI. What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing!" Tasha lied. "She's just a friend."

Blake nodded. "Well, your friend was after my father before he died. Am I supposed to believe it's a coincidence?'

Tasha didn't know what to do. Her cover was blown. Now she needed to decide if she should try to continue to play it off like it was, in fact, a coincidence, or if she should come clean and tell Blake that her name wasn't Julie and that she was a former FBI agent.

"Trying to decide what lie you want to tell me?" Blake asked when Tasha didn't respond immediately. "Is your name even Julie Paige?"

Tasha licked her lips. She'd blown it.

"No. It's not," she said quietly. "Maybe we should sit down?"

Blake shook her head. "No."

"Okay. You're right, my name isn't Julie Paige," she said and swallowed hard. "My name is Natasha Zapata. Tasha. I used to work for the FBI. The woman in the photograph is Special Agent Patterson, currently of the New York office of the FBI. She's my girlfriend."

"Your girlfriend?"

Tasha nodded. "I live here with her," she said.

“And you're FBI.”

“I was. Until almost two years ago,” Tasha replied. “NYPD before that.”

Blake furrowed her brow and looked at her distrustfully.

"What are you now?" she asked. "Who are you now?"

That was a harder question to answer. Tasha had been going by Julie Paige as part of her cover with the CIA but now that Blake knew her name, it was going to be hard explaining it away. She could easily lie about working for the CIA but the phony name? That was going to be tricky.

"Now? I work for you at HCI Global," Tasha said. "That is if I still have a job. I didn't mean to deceive you. I left the FBI and needed to start over at something that was actually making a difference. I thought I'd found that with you at HCI."

"Why lie about your name?"

"I thought if you knew I was former FBI and my girlfriend's team had been working to bring in your father, you wouldn't want to work with me," Tasha said. She thought it was a good lie and was pleased she'd come up with it so quickly. "It clearly didn't work. I didn't mean to lie to you."

Blake picked her wine glass back up and sipped at it thoughtfully. She'd spent the better part of the last year being lied to by her father and the man she thought was Tom Jakeman, her boyfriend. Now, the person who'd revealed Tom's deception to her had been lying as well. She set her glass back down.

"I think I need to leave," she said finally. "I need time to think about all of this."

"Blake, I'm sorry," Tasha said. "I really didn't mean —"

"For me to find out?" Blake responded. There was a touch of venom in her voice. "I trusted you, Julie. Tasha, whatever your name is. When you told me about Tom, Roman, you promised me that you wouldn't lie to me and that I could trust you. But now I don't know if I can trust you. So I need to leave and I need to think about this."

Blake went to the door and turned the knob before looking back at Tasha.

"I'll call you when I figure this out."

"Blake."

"Bye, Tasha."


	11. Another Artful Dodge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was exactly why she was still working with Blake. Tasha wasn't privy to all of the details but this was the meat of why she'd been sent to Blake Crawford. She needed to ensure she got all the information she could possibly get and Blake's plans.

Blake didn't call. Tasha waited for two days and Blake still didn't call. She was starting to worry. Not that she wasn't already full up on worries. For a short time, Tasha thought maybe her phone wasn't working. She almost asked Reade to call her but she knew that the moment she asked him to call, he'd ask questions and what was she going to say? _The CIA job I told you I was fired from is hanging in the balance because I blew my cover._ Not the best answer. She even thought about calling Blake but she didn't want to seem pushy and risk blowing her cover further. She even wondered if she ought to call Keaton to let him know what she'd done but wasn't quite ready for whatever asinine bullshit he'd dump on her. So, she'd forced herself to shove her worries about the op to the back of her mind and focus on Patterson.

Patterson had been in the hospital for five days and, once the doctor came by today and gave her the all clear, was expecting to be allowed to go home. She was sitting up in the hospital bed looking extremely antsy when Tasha arrived shortly after 8 a.m. The bandages that had covered her arm and the entire left side of her face were gone. Sometime in the eight hours since Tasha had last been there, she'd had the stitches in her cheek removed as well.

"I can see your face again," Tasha said, giving Patterson a big smile. "Just as beautiful as ever."

Patterson returned Tasha's smile but shook her head.

"You're a liar," she said and pointed to a long scab near the corner of her mouth. "This? This is probably gonna scar. And I'm gonna look like the Joker."

Tasha set the duffel bag full of clothes for Patterson to wear home next to the bed before leaning down and kissing her. It'd been too long since she didn't have to worry about hurting her when they kissed.

"Maybe I think the Joker is sexy."

Patterson laughed. "Yeah, okay, Harley Quinn."

Tasha dropped into the visitor's chair and set her bag on the floor. She was looking forward to never sitting in this chair ever again. She crossed her legs and glanced at her watch.

"So, when can you leave?" Tasha asked. "Has a doctor even been here this morning?"

Patterson sighed. It was the biggest, longest sigh Tasha had ever heard from her and she couldn't help but smile at how comical it was.

"I had a nurse in here about a half hour ago to pull the stitches and she said Dr. Lorenzo would come by soon," she said. "I don't know how to set my watch to 'soon'. And I want to leave. Now. I'm tired of sitting here."

"You know you're gonna have to just sit there at home, too, right?"

Another sigh. "I know, but at least I'll be home. It can't be much worse than this."

***

Patterson was thoroughly unamused as Tasha wheeled her through the door of their apartment and parked the wheelchair next to the couch. Reade followed behind carrying the object of her ire. Not only had the doctor insisted that the wheelchair was, in fact, extremely necessary until her legs were able to support her weight again, but he'd also insisted that she use a walker to get in and out of the chair. A walker. She felt like a little old lady, and it didn't help that Reade hadn't stopped snickering since volunteering to help bring her home.

"You can put that abomination over there," she said and waved a dismissive hand across the room.

"Sure thing, Grandma," Reade said and laughed again as he carried the walker to the spot she gestured to.

"And you can leave now," Patterson replied. She was annoyed and everyone knew it. Her legs were propped out straight in front of her and she just felt terrible. She was an invalid and needed help to do just about everything. She didn't want help to do anything. "Just wait until I'm out of this chair —"

"You'll what? Chase me with your walker?" Reade snickered and Tasha elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"Reade," she admonished, stifling her own laugh. "Can't you see you're upsetting Abuela Patterson?"

"That's it!" Patterson cried. "Both of you are dead to me. This isn't funny at all."

Tasha went over Patterson's wheelchair and crouched down beside it. She tried to take one of the blonde's hands but Patterson pulled them both away and frowned at her.

"I'm sorry, P," Tasha said. "We're just teasing."

"There is nothing funny here, Tasha," Patterson said.

"You're right," Reade said. "We're sorry, Patterson."

Patterson nodded her acceptance of their apology and then looked wistfully around the apartment, spotting her game system and computers. She finally looked back at Tasha.

"This is gonna suck so hardcore," she said. "I can't do anything I need my hands for. I was wrong before. It can get worse."

***

Tasha was sitting on the couch holding a magazine. She was trying not to watch as Patterson attempted rather unsuccessfully to learn to type with most of her fingers still immobilized. The blonde was incredibly frustrated, and Tasha was doing everything she could not to laugh at her. Patterson was absolutely adorable in her frustration. She was attempting to use a set of chopsticks to try to hunt and peck her way through the keyboard and was swearing every few seconds under breath. It was slow-going and she felt ridiculous.

"This is impossible," Patterson said finally, dropping the chopsticks onto the desk and watching them roll onto the floor.

Tasha set the magazine down on the table and got to her feet. She went to the desk and stood just behind the wheelchair, looking at the computer screens from over Patterson's shoulder. The code she was working on was a mess of typos and incomplete statements.

"Do you want help? Is there something I can do?"

"No," Patterson sulked as she stared at the screen full of typos. "Unless you have magical healing powers that I don't know about."

Tasha gently collected the blonde hair that spilled over Patterson's shoulder and brushed it aside before nuzzling into her neck and kissing the spot behind her ear that usually brought about a groan.

"Tash," Patterson protested. "That's not helping."

"No?" Tasha murmured between kisses. "Are you sure?"

Patterson closed her eyes and didn't respond for a moment while Tasha continued kissing and suckling along her neck. She finally shrugged.

"Well, maybe a little."

"Hmmm," Tasha hummed. "That's what I thought."

Tasha's phone vibrated from somewhere on the couch. She'd dropped it there after getting Patterson settled at her desk. The blonde had insisted on trying to do things she'd normally do and getting her situated at her computers was nearly impossible. The workspace wasn't designed to accommodate a wheelchair let alone one with its leg rests fully raised. After a frustrating few moments, Tasha had taken a photo of the final solution so she'd be able to replicate it later and then pitched her phone onto the couch. Now it vibrated angrily from its resting place.

Tasha sighed and reluctantly stopped her oral assault of Patterson's neck. She scooped her phone off the couch and caught Blake Crawford's name on the caller ID. Finally. Tasha cast a glance at Patterson and arched an eyebrow.

"It's Blake," she said. She'd already told Patterson what had happened during their meeting, and Patterson had assured her that Blake would eventually call. Tasha shouldn't have been surprised that Patterson was right.

"Answer it," Patterson encouraged as Tasha accepted the call.

"Hi Blake. Thanks for calling," Tasha said and fell silent for a few moments. "Today?...Okay. Maybe we could meet for coffee?...Um, okay then." She disconnected the call and stared at the phone in her hand before turning back to look at Patterson who had been watching her closely.

"What?" Patterson asked when Tasha didn't say anything.

"Blake is coming here. She's already on her way," Tasha said slowly. "I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean you don't know what to do?" Patterson asked, furrowing her brow. "Just do your job. Get Blake back on your side and save your op. You're better at your job than most people I know. You just have to do it."

Tasha nodded. Patterson was right. Of course, she was right. This was her job. It wasn't a social call with Blake Crawford. This was a matter of saving her op and, by extension, her job. She just needed to focus on getting Blake's trust back and resecuring her place within HCI Global.

"Yeah, okay, you're right," Tasha said as she began looking around the room frantically for anything that might need to be picked up. Her eyes fell on Patterson and she stopped. "What about you?"

"What about me? Blake already knows I live here," Patterson said patiently. "Besides, it's not like I can go anywhere, Tash. A walk down the block is sort of out of the question."

"Right, right," Tasha sputtered.

Blake's knock interrupted her next thought, and Tasha cast a look to the door. She didn't move.

"For christ's sake, Zapata," Patterson groaned and rolled her eyes. Tasha was acting like a high schooler terrified for a first date. "Open the damn door."

Tasha went to the door and peered through the peephole before removing the door chain and opening the door. She gave Blake a small smile.

"Hi Blake," she said and stepped aside to allow the other woman to enter. She gestured towards Patterson. "You've met Patterson before."

Blake nodded as she entered the room and stopped short when she saw Patterson's condition.

"Oh my god," she said and realized how rude that sounded. "Are you okay? Jul-Tasha wasn't kidding when she said her friend had been in an accident."

"Yeah," Patterson replied and forced a polite smile. She wasn't sure how she felt about Blake. Her father had been scum, and she always had the feeling that Blake's bubbly and polite persona was manufactured. But for Tasha's sake, Patterson was polite. "A bunch of broken stuff but I'll be okay. Hazards of the job, I guess." Patterson turned her attention to Tasha. "If you wanna roll me into the bedroom I can hang out there so you guys can talk privately."

"No," Blake began. "I don't want to kick you out."

"It's okay," Patterson insisted. "Normally I'd step out and go for a walk or something but that's not really an option right now. It's no big deal. Tash?"

Tasha went to Patterson's wheelchair and bent down to whisper in her ear.

"Are you sure? I don't want to kick you out either."

"Yeah. It's good. Don't worry about it."

When Tasha had Patterson situated in the bedroom with a copy of one of the comic books from the week's pull list, she shut the door and returned to the living room. She smiled apologetically to Blake.

"Sorry about that," she said. "We just got Patterson back home today, and it's taking a minute to figure out how to do everything."

"Is she going to be okay?" Blake asked. "It looks pretty bad."

Tasha nodded. "Yeah. It'll take a little bit of time but she'll be okay. She's already had a bunch of stitches pulled and bandages removed. Now it's just some broken bones and a wound in her thigh. But she'll be okay." She hesitated a moment. "Can I get you anything? Something to drink maybe?"

Blake shook her head and gestured towards the living room.

"No, thanks," she said. "I think we should just talk."

Tasha bit her lower lip as she went to the couch and sat. Blake sat opposite her in an armchair. She spoke immediately.

"I had you investigated," she said.

"You what?" Tasha asked. She was stunned. 

"I'm sorry," Blake said. "I had to. After Tom — Roman — I'm having a hard time trusting people and then you lied to me so I had you investigated. And I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

Tasha had no idea what kind of investigator couldn't find that she was CIA but she was glad it didn't turn up. The CIA must have done an amazing job of covering her tracks. They'd officially made her invisible. _Damn, Keaton is good_ , she thought. She needed to keep playing along, keep the game going, and so it was her turn to apologize.

"No, I'm the one who should be sorry," Tasha said, frowning. "I shouldn't have lied to you in the first place. I was just worried that given your father's history, if you knew I was former FBI, you wouldn't even talk to me."

"I understand why you did it. I don't like it, but I understand it," Blake replied and hesitated. "Can I ask you something, though?"

"Sure."

Blake licked her lips and looked down at her hands resting in her lap.

"Why did you leave the FBI?"

That was the million-dollar question. Tasha, like Patterson, had good reasons for leaving the FBI after Shepherd was captured and Jane and Weller were married. The two prior years had been beyond stressful and had pushed each of them to their very limits. Explaining the reason without getting into all the details, however, was going to be hard.

"That's a tough question," Tasha admitted truthfully. "It's complex. The team I was part of had spent two years chasing a terror cell. Our boss was murdered, we were each shot or blown up or both. It took a physical and emotional toll on all of us. I left, Patterson left. We all went our separate ways. Patterson came back after 18 months but I just couldn’t. After everything we went through, I just didn't see that we made a difference. The world was still hell and nothing we did seemed to matter. So, I went looking for somewhere that I could make a difference. And I landed at the Friedman Foundation for Clean Air working for Tracy Zaslow."

Blake took this information in. Tasha sounded sincere and it made sense. The timeline sounded right anyway. The investigation she'd commissioned had contacted the Friedman Foundation and they'd confirmed that Tasha, rather Julie Paige, had worked there. She finally nodded.

"Okay. Thank you for telling me the truth."

"You're welcome," Tasha said. "Thank you for giving me the chance to. Are you sure I can't get you something to drink? Water even?"

"No, thank you. I don't want to take up too much more of your time. You've got Patterson to take care of," Blake said. "But if you've got a few more minutes, I'd love to talk to you about what I came here with a few days ago?"

"I have all the minutes you need," Tasha said and smiled.

"Before my father died, he was working on a pipeline running through a piece of land he owned in Africa. He was desperate to complete the project. I think I owe it to him to try to see it through," Blake explained.

Tasha nodded. The pipeline is exactly why she was still working with Blake. After Crawford had tried to have King Almasi and President Botros killed, the CIA had taken a special interest in the tract of land HCI Global owned. Tasha wasn't privy to all of the details but this was the meat of why she'd been sent to Blake Crawford. She needed to ensure she got all the information she could possibly get about the land and Blake's plans for it.

"So, what's your plan?" Tasha asked.

"I don't have one yet," Blake replied. "I'm catching a plane to Paris in the morning, though. I'd love for you to come with me and help me sort all of this out."

Tasha looked towards the bedroom door. She knew that she needed to follow Blake. That was her job and she was back in. But she had a responsibility to Patterson. Tasha loved Patterson. She couldn't just leave her here to fend for herself when she couldn't even push her own wheelchair or get up on her own. Blake sensed her hesitation and followed her gaze to the bedroom.

"You can't leave, can you?" Blake asked.

"Not yet. I... I just can't yet. She just came home," Tasha said, turning her gaze back to Blake. "She can't stand or get out of that chair without help. I don't think I can leave her. I'm sorry, Blake."

"I understand," Blake said. "She really means a lot to you, huh?"

Tasha chewed her lip and nodded.

"I want to go with you," Tasha said. "I just can't go yet. Can you give me a few days?"

Blake got out of her chair and headed towards the door. She smiled at Tasha and seemed to understand Tasha's dilemma.

"It's okay," she said. "Take your time. Give me a call when you're — Patterson — is ready."


	12. Things Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So, we brought you some stuff," Rich said, changing the subject and drawing Patterson's attention away from the hurt look on Tasha's face. "Well, actually, we brought you your stuff."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I'm going to put up for a bit. I've outlined a bunch more chapters, but I really need to step away from this particular work for a bit. It's feeling stale to me, so I'm going to work on a few other things. I'll return to this but, for now, consider this a "mid-season" hiatus.

"This is sort of exciting," Rich said as Weller knocked on the door. "I've never seen Patty Cake's place before. Your place, sure, but never Patty's."

"Maybe there's a reason for that," Reade replied.

Weller shot an annoyed look at the two men as he heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the door followed by Tasha's voice saying something he couldn't quite make out. This wasn't the first time either he or Reade had been to Patterson's apartment but it was the first time any of them had been there since Tasha moved in. Rich's excitement and enthusiasm was matched only by his own anxiety. He wondered if it would be weird seeing Patterson and Tasha living together as a couple. Weller was still trying to process the news that Patterson had blurted out that morning following her panic attack. There wasn't much time to think about it; the door opened and Tasha smiled at them. She stepped aside and let them enter.

"Hey guys," she said. She looked at the group of Weller, Rich, and Reade. "No Jane?"

Weller shook his head as he entered. "No. She thought it would be best if she didn't come."

Tasha gave a single nod. She was glad Jane had decided not to visit. Patterson may have spoken with her but Tasha wasn't over it. Far from it. She didn't want to look at Jane let alone be in the same room with her. Admittedly, she'd never fallen head over heels for Jane. Yes, they were friends and Jane had earned their trust and respect, but Tasha had a very hard time looking past her terrorist background. She found it hard to trust her. Now, she really didn't trust her but there were real reasons for that.

"Where's Patterson?" Reade asked. He had expected to see her in her wheelchair in the living room but there was no sign of her or the chair anywhere. Even the walker was missing from where he'd left it the previous day.

Tasha threw a look over her shoulder towards the bedroom.

"She's insisting on trying to get dressed by herself this morning," Tasha said. She tried not to smile but couldn't help it. Patterson was struggling and being petulant about it. Before Tasha had gone to answer the door, Patterson had trapped herself inside of a shirt that Tasha told her was a bad idea. When she'd offered to help, Patterson glared at her through a sleeve and shooed her away. "She's been trying to do things for herself and it's, been, a, um, challenge. For both of us."

"Argh! I give up! I'm stuck!" Patterson called from the bedroom. Her voice was filled with exasperation. "Tash!"

Reade and Weller exchanged a grin as Tasha rolled her eyes and laughed.

"I'll be right back," Tasha said as she turned back to the bedroom. "I ran out for coffee and bagels earlier if you guys want. They're on the counter in the kitchen."

Tasha disappeared into the bedroom and Reade led the way into the kitchen. He was glad to hear the coffee came from the shop next door and not from Tasha's own efforts. She was anything but domestic, and the first time she served him coffee she made was also the last. He found six cups of black coffee on the counter next to a large bag full of bagels and a pile of sugar packets and individual creamers. Tasha had clearly expected Jane to come with them. Rich snagged a cup of coffee from the counter and began dumping in packets of sugar.

"Anyone else notice how many pictures there are of Patterson and Zapata?" Weller asked as he pulled a tub of cream cheese from the refrigerator and noticed snapshots of the couple on the stainless-steel doors. "There are tons of them. How long have they been together?"

Rich took a swallow of his coffee and dumped another packet of sugar in. "Almost two years," he said and took another sip. He swirled the cup in his hand to mix the sugar and sipped again. "Patterson said they broke up —"

"When she went to California," Reade supplied.

"Two years?" Weller asked. "How did none of us know about it?"

"Well, I knew, actually," Rich said, pleased with himself. "I saw them making out in the locker room once right after you and Jane moved to Colorado. And haven't you ever seen the way Zapata looks at Patterson during briefings? Like a lovesick puppy dog. It's sort of adorable."

The door to the bedroom opened finally and the sound of wheels rolling over the wooden living room floor filled the apartment. Tasha pushed Patterson into the kitchen and parked the chair at the kitchen table before going and grabbing two coffees.

"Hey guys," Patterson greeted them and flashed an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. Everything takes me an extra minute now. The wheelchair is a real downer but not being able to use my hands is the worst."

Tasha set a coffee down on the table in front of Patterson and watched as the blonde struggled to wrap her splinted hand around the cup and bring it to her lips without spilling it.

"Do you want a straw?" Tasha asked after watching for a moment.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Patterson replied flatly. She was tired of not being able to do things for herself. She knew Tasha was trying to help and she loved her for it, but it was exasperating to be constantly asked if she needed help.

"She's being stubborn," Tasha explained as if the team didn't already know.

"Am not," Patterson objected.

"Said every stubborn person ever," Tasha replied as she sipped at her own coffee.

Patterson huffed a sigh and gripped the cup tightly. She brought it to her lips and took a swallow before setting the cup back down and giving Tasha a triumphant grin.

"Told you I didn't need a straw," she gloated.

Weller chuckled at the interaction and sat down at the table opposite Patterson. Reade grabbed the chair next to him.

"So, how you feeling, Patterson?" Weller asked.

"The same?" Patterson ventured. "I mean, I'm home so that's something but...I'm sorry, I'm okay. I'm getting there. Five weeks to go for this big clunky leg trap."

"She's grumpy," Tasha said. "She's tired of me trying to help with everything and frustrated that she can't do anything. And now probably ticked off that I'm explaining how she's feeling."

Patterson sighed and looked over at Tasha. She wanted to protest that she wasn't grumpy but she was. She'd had moments when she wasn't – those were typically moments when it was just her and Tasha and no one was trying to help anyone – but for the most part, she'd been grumpy since midway through her hospital stay. She hated not being able to go to work and do her job, and she hated not being able to fend for herself.

"This has just been draining on every possible level," Patterson admitted. "Physically, well, wheelchair. Mentally? I'm, I don't know. And emotionally? I'm a wreck. Everything stresses me out."

Tasha's face fell. She knew Patterson was struggling and they'd talked extensively about everything except what actually happened that day in the basement. Hearing her describe herself as a wreck, however, was painful. She desperately wanted to make everything better but clearly, she was unable. Her eyes glistened with tears and she blinked them back. She ached listening to Patterson speak.

Patterson saw Tasha's reaction and swiveled her head around to look her directly in the eye. When she was telling the team how she was recovering, she hadn't even thought about the weight her words might carry with her girlfriend. Tasha was doing absolutely everything she could for her, and she'd just inadvertently implied that everything, including Tasha, was stressing her out. She was frustrated for sure but she couldn't be stressed over her.

"Oh, Tash," she said quietly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean you. You're not stressing me out, I swear. I just, I mean, this chair, my hands... I didn't mean you. You've been great."

"No, it's okay," Tasha replied. "It's just hard to hear you talk like that. I wish there was more I could do."

Patterson shook her head.

"More you could do? Tash, opposite opposite! You've done so much," Patterson protested. "Your whole world is on hold. For me. And I know you're not sleeping. Woman cannot live on coffee alone, no matter how hard she tries. I don't think you know how much I appreciate everything you've been doing. I'm so sorry if I made you think otherwise."

"It's okay," Tasha said and tucked a strand behind her ear. That was her tell. Patterson had come to recognize it. Whenever she tucked her hair behind her ear and said something was "fine" or "okay" it usually meant that she just didn't want to talk about it anymore because it wasn't fine or okay.

Rich cleared his throat. He knew Tasha's tell, too. They didn't talk a lot but he'd seen her interact with the rest of the team often enough to recognize it. She did it when dealing with Reade and Jane and usually himself but rarely with Patterson.

"So, we brought you some stuff," he said, changing the subject and drawing Patterson's attention away from the hurt look on Tasha's face. "Well, actually, we brought you your stuff."

Reade set a bag on the table and pulled out Patterson's gun and phone, both of which had been found at the crime scene.

"We had your gun cleaned," Weller said. "When was the last time you did that?"

Patterson shrugged. "I dunno. I don't really use it a lot in the lab."

"Well, we cleaned it and had it serviced. And Rich did a full reset on your phone."

Patterson was confused for a passing moment. Why would her phone need a full reset? And then it hit her: the phone Remi recorded the video message to Weller must have been hers. She felt herself pale.

"I got rid of it," Rich said, understanding the sudden sick look on Patterson's face. "It's a full reset. I saved all your contacts and photos, texts, everything that you'd want. Even those disgustingly cute selfies of you and Frowny the Clown over there. It's all there like nothing ever happened. Full charge, too."

Patterson nodded her thanks as Tasha reached over and grabbed the phone.

"Thanks, Rich," Tasha said as she set the phone on the counter behind them. "But don't call me that."

Reade hesitated before pulling a final item out of the bag. There'd been a lot of debate in the office about whether to return Patterson's Skeletool, but in the end, Weller had suggested they bring the knife with them. It belonged to Patterson after all. They weren't filing charges against Jane at Patterson's insistence so it didn't need to be filed as evidence but, Reade had argued, if it were him, he wouldn't want to see the knife ever again.

"There's something else," he said as he slowly pulled the pocketknife out of the bag and set it on the table in front of them. "We recovered this at the scene. I'm pretty sure it's yours."

Patterson stared at the knife for a long time. It had been cleaned and polished and you would never know that only a week earlier it had been used to as a tool of torture. It was so small but Patterson could still feel the knife blade as it plunged into her leg and the teeth of the pliers as they bit into her fingers and she shuddered. She shook her head and looked away.

"Get rid of it," she said coldly. "I don't want it."

Reade wordlessly returned the tool to the bag and set it on the floor. The room was silent for several moments.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Patterson looked up surprised. She'd been staring at the table where the knife had been and hadn't expected Rich to be the one to speak. She certainly didn't expect him to be the one who'd want to discuss something so serious.

"What?" Rich asked. "I can do big serious talks. It's not always fun and games. Rich has feelings too. I'm not some emotionless robot. But that would be pretty cool. Can you imagine that?"

"Rich," Weller warned, silencing him.

"There's nothing to talk about," Patterson said quietly. She looked to each of them, meeting their eyes. She and Tasha had already had this conversation several times and she was okay with her decision but she needed her friends to understand.

"What happened was horrible," Reade said. "We'd understand if you wanted to talk to someone about it."

"No," Patterson insisted. "After David was murdered, Mayfair encouraged me to talk to Borden. I didn't want to but I did. And it didn't help. I had nightmares for years after his death. They only went away recently, and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't feel some kind of guilt about what happened. Talking about it did nothing."

Weller was shaking his head. "This isn't like that. This is different," he began.

"Let me finish, Weller. Please," Patterson said. "Then Borden. He shot me and watched as Shepherd tortured me and then he tried to kill me. You told me I had to talk to Dr. Sun. I didn't want to talk then, but I did. And she insisted that everything I was feeling was psychosomatic but it wasn't. She was condescending and horrible. I don't need to tell you about Borden. There were nightmares and I was mired in a constant sense of feeling unsafe. But talking about it did nothing for me except remind me that it happened. And that's what's gonna to happen with this. I can talk about it but it won't change what happened or how I feel about it. It doesn't even matter what I feel about it. It happened."

"Patterson," Reade began.

"No. Some things are better left behind," she continued. "Horrible things happen sometimes. There doesn't have to be a reason. They just happen. And if you're lucky you get to move on." She grabbed for Tasha's hand with her splinted left hand and felt Tasha's reassuring squeeze. "Endure and survive. And that's what I'm going to do. That's what I have to do."


	13. A Little Help from my Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this means the hiatus is over. It’s still slow-going so stick with me here. Also, thanks to those of you who reached out via Twitter (@danawpatterson, if you’re so inclined) or here on AO3 to ask about/comment on this monstrosity. You’re all much sweeter than I deserve.

Tasha was perfectly fine sleeping on the couch again, but Patterson wouldn’t hear of it.

“This is _our_ bed, Tash,” she said. “I’m not gonna kick you out of it because of this. You’re not sleeping on the couch again.”

The argument began Patterson’s first night home and now, day three, Patterson was tired of arguing about it but unwilling to give in. The couch was great for falling asleep on while watching Netflix. It wasn’t great for nightly sleeping. Besides, she missed waking up next to Tasha.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Tasha replied as she leaned against the door frame with her arms crossed. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with the couch.”

Patterson was shaking her head from her spot in the bed. “No. This is dumb. Stop worrying about hurting me. I want you to sleep with me. In our bed. And the word ‘couch’ has the word ‘ouch’ in it. Enough said. Just please. Sleep in the bed.”

“Patterson —”

“Stop,” Patterson sighed. “I don’t want to argue about this every night. Sleep with me, please. I’ll tell you if I hurt or if I can’t have you here but right now, I want you here.” She patted a spot next to her on the bed. “Right there actually.”

Tasha sighed. She was tired of arguing with Patterson about this, and she did miss sleeping in the bed alongside her girlfriend. She uncrossed her arms and walked silently across the room before pulling the covers back and lying down on the very edge of the bed. Patterson watched this and let out another sigh.

“If you sleep that close to the edge, you’re gonna fall out,” she said and reached over to grab Tasha’s arm. She pulled lightly on her. “Over here, please.”

Tasha scooted closer to Patterson but left about a foot of space between them. She didn’t want to accidentally bump into one of her braces. They lay together silently for a few moments and then Patterson spoke again.

“You know you’re gonna have to tell them where you’re going, right?”

“I know,” Tasha replied quietly.

“They’ll be happy to help me while you’re gone, but they’re gonna ask questions.”

“I know.”

“What are you gonna tell them?”

Tasha didn’t respond immediately as she thought about the question. The obvious answer was “the truth” but she knew the fallout from the truth was going to be big. She wasn’t sure she was ready for that. And she couldn’t put it off. Reade and Weller were coming for breakfast in just 10 hours. She rolled onto her side and found Patterson watching her.

“I guess I have to tell them the truth,” she said finally. “They’re going to hate me, you know that, right?”

“They’re not gonna hate you,” Patterson insisted.

***

Patterson was in the living room reading a comic book as Tasha paced nervously in front of the couch. She’d been trying to ignore her, but then Tasha started mumbling to herself. Patterson set her comic book down with a loud sigh.

“Oh my god, stop. You’re making me crazy,” Patterson said. “If you want their help, you’re gonna have to just swallow your pride and tell them what’s up, but stop with the pacing already.”

Tasha sat on the couch beside Patterson’s wheelchair.

“Pride has nothing to do with it,” she said. “Reade’s gonna look at me like I just kicked a puppy. And this is all classified information. I’m not even supposed to tell you about it.”

“And yet I know,” Patterson said with a shrug. “Just relax. You’ll tell them. It’ll be fine.”

Tasha leaned back and sighed. It was easy for Patterson to tell her to relax. She wasn’t the one about to give away classified information in exchange for a few rides to doctors' appointments so she could return to a CIA operation that didn’t technically exist on the books. Keaton would kill her himself if he found out she’d betrayed his trust for her former team once again.

Reade’s knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts, and she glanced at Patterson.

“It’ll be fine,” Patterson assured her again and gestured towards the door. “Just go let them in so we can eat something.”

Tasha grudgingly got to her feet, went to the door, and peered through the peephole. Reade and Weller stood side by side. She released the door chain and opened the door.

“Hey Tasha,” Reade greeted her and smiled at her slightly grumpy expression. “Bad night’s sleep?”

She stepped aside and let them enter. “Something like that,” she replied.

“Hey Patterson,” Weller said as he spotted the scientist in her wheelchair. “How you doing today?”

Patterson offered a genuine smile. “Better than the last time you guys were here. Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. I’m starving.”

This was really just a chance for her to show off. Since she couldn’t really handle a video game controller and typing was pretty much out of the question, Patterson had taken her free time and used it to gain some small degree of control over her life. She reached carefully for the wheels of the chair and slowly rolled herself away from the couch towards the kitchen table.

“Get a load of wheels,” Reade said with a smile. “You’re mobile!”

Patterson grinned as she stopped at the table.

“Finally,” she grinned. “I mean, I can’t go far or fast but I can go.”

Tasha set a white bakery box of muffins on the table and pulled the lid back. “She’s sick of needing help to do things.”

“Oh, come on, Tasha,” Patterson said, as the brunette set a paper cup of coffee in front of her. “You were impressed the first time, too.”

Weller and Reade took up spots around the table as Tasha passed them each cups of coffee branded from the same bakery. Weller grabbed a muffin from the box and bit into it before taking a swallow from his coffee and setting the cup back down.

“Not that I don’t mind coming over for free breakfasts but what’s up, guys?” he asked.

Tasha sat down next to Patterson and sipped at her own cup. She hoped that maybe Patterson would take the lead on the small talk portion of their morning but it seemed like they were just going to get right down to business. She dreaded this.

“You guys have been so great to Patterson since this happened, I just wanted to thank you,” she lied and took another sip at her coffee.

Reade watched her for a moment as he sipped at his coffee.

“It’s Patterson. Of course, we’re going to help,” he said after a moment. “But I know you, Tasha. Something’s up.”

She sighed and glanced at Patterson who gave her a small nod as if to say “go ahead.” Tasha set her coffee down and tried to meet their eyes.

“I hate to ask for something else, but I sort of need a favor,” she said.

Weller nodded. “Of course, Tasha.”

“I have to go back to work, and Patterson is gonna need rides to a few doctors' appointments.”

Reade eyed her warily. She’d never gotten around to telling him where she’d been or why no one had seen her. He’d let it go but hadn’t stopped wondering how Tasha had been filling her days or why she had to board an airplane just to come see Patterson in the hospital.

“What are you doing now? Does it have something to do with why you flew here from... wherever?” he asked, holding her gaze.

Tasha bit her lip and glanced down towards her coffee cup. She turned it nervously in her hands and nodded.

“Uh yeah,” she said. “This is hard to say and it’s probably gonna be hard to hear too, but just let me say it and then you can jump all over me, okay?” She hesitated to take a deep breath but didn’t give either a chance to respond. “Keaton didn’t fire me. I’m still CIA.”

“What?” Weller interrupted.

“You better start explaining, Zapata,” Reade agreed.

“I’m trying,” she said with a touch of annoyance in her voice. “He — we — had been looking for ways to pull me from the task force. Keaton had been grooming me to be a field operative, and then we were kidnapped and I got pulled back to the NYO. While we were working the tattoos, Keaton and I were working on establishing my cover. I’ve been embedded on an international op since I signed my paperwork in your office.”

She glanced away from her cup and saw the deep frown on Reade’s face. This wasn’t the hurt face she was expecting. He actually looked angry. Weller, on the other hand, just watched her. There was no sign of hurt or anger on his face.

“I really can’t tell you much about the op. I’m not even supposed to tell you what I just did, but I needed to be honest with you,” she said. “I’m an undercover field operative for the CIA.”

"What?“ Reade asked. It was definitely anger Tasha saw in his face, and she looked at Patterson again who gave her another nod.

“It’s off the books, and the CIA will deny all knowledge that I work for them. I officially don’t exist,” she said as she got up from the table and went to her purse sitting a few feet away on the kitchen counter. She pulled out her badge and set it down on the table between them before sitting back down. “I’m in the middle of something pretty big — or at least that’s what they told me. I wish I could tell you more about it but...”

“It’s classified,” Weller supplied.

Tasha nodded.

“She won’t tell me either,” Patterson fibbed. She knew small bits about the operation, particularly about HCI Global and Tasha’s involvement with Blake Crawford, but it might be easier for their friends to handle it if Tasha was keeping the information from all of them, girlfriend included.

Reade took a large swallow of coffee and set the cup down hard on the table.

“You’ve been lying to us,” he said flatly.

Tasha shook her head. “Not really. Okay, a little,” she explained. “I needed to disappear. To become a ghost. The only way to do that was to make it seem like I no longer had CIA ties. So, we staged my exit.”

Weller shook his head. “No,” he said. “You were upset after Keaton fired you. We all saw your reaction. And Jane said she saw you crying after you signed your paperwork.”

“I was upset,” Tasha admitted. “I knew this was coming, and I hated the idea of just disappearing on all of you. And that’s what Keaton wanted. I was supposed to cut all ties and disappear —”

“But you didn’t,” Reade said.

“No. I couldn’t,” she said and glanced at her girlfriend again. She sighed. “Patterson...”

The room was silent for a few moments and Tasha swallowed hard. She didn’t know what else to say to them.

“And you’re telling us this why? What's going on, Tasha?” Weller asked. He didn’t seem mad or upset but maybe just a bit confused.

“I have to go back to work. But Patterson —”

“I need rides,” Patterson interrupted. “Doctors' appointments mainly. I can do a lot more on my own, but I definitely can’t leave the apartment without help.”

“I’ve hired a home health aide to come in a few times a day to help,” Tasha explained “but not full time.”

“I don’t need full time help,” Patterson insisted.

“But I was hoping maybe you guys might be willing to help while I’m gone,” Tasha continued. “I can come back every few days, but I really need to get back to work.”

Weller nodded and gave Tasha and Patterson a smile. “No problem,” he said. “Just say when and where, Patterson, and I’ll do what I can.”

“Thanks, Weller,” Patterson said.

“Yeah, thanks,” Tasha echoed.

Reade put a hand up. “Wait a minute here, Tasha. How long?”

Tasha furrowed her brow. “How long what?”

“How long have you been lying to us? Playing this game with Keaton?”

“We’ve been laying the groundwork since before Croatia,” she admitted.

Reade slammed his cup back down on the table. His face darkened and he glared at Tasha. The last time she’d seen him react like this, she’d thought he murdered someone.

“Croatia? Croatia.” He shook his head. “Why should I help you? You can’t even be straight with me. We were best friends, and I feel like I don’t know you anymore. You dated Patterson in secret for two years? And then you return to the NYO and lie your ass off for months. To me, to Patterson, to everyone. Now, you spill an ounce of truth and I’m supposed to just say ‘Sure, okay Zapata. I’ll help you.’ I used to know you better than anyone. But this person? I have no idea who she is.”

Tasha was taken aback at Reade’s reaction. She knew he wasn’t going to be happy with her, but she thought he’d be hurt. He was downright angry. His anger just made her angry. She leaned forward on the table and pushed her own coffee away. She returned his glare.

“You don’t have to like me, Reade. I’m asking for help with Patterson. For Patterson. You like her.”

Reade shoved his chair away from the table and stood up. He started towards the door, grabbed the doorknob, and turned back to face them. “Fine. For Patterson,” he agreed, anger still tingeing his voice. “You and I, though? We’re done. I don’t think I can be friends with you right now. I don’t even know who you are.” He slammed the door as he left.

The trio sat in silence for a moment. Weller cleared his throat and Tasha turned her attention to him.

“Are you leaving too?” she asked quietly.

Weller shook his head. “I understand,” he said. “You’ve got my help but I wish you’d told us what was going on. Don’t worry about Reade. He’s just gonna need some time. He’ll come around again.”

“I don’t know —”

“I do. You just dumped a lot on us, and he’s gonna need to sort it out,” Weller replied. “Call me anytime. We’ll both help.”

Weller finished his coffee and muffin and made small talk with Patterson and Tasha for a bit. He promised that they could count on him for whatever Patterson might need while Tasha was gone, and Tasha assured him that she’d return as often as she could. When he finally left, Tasha retreated to the living room and fell onto the couch. She buried her face in her hands and tried not to cry. Weller’s reaction was the one she’d hoped to get from Reade, but instead one of her best friends had decided to cut her out of his life. It was her own fault but it hurt nonetheless.

Patterson wheeled herself back into the living room and pulled her chair up alongside Tasha. She watched her shaking shoulders for a moment and finally reached out to grab her hand.

“Don’t worry about Reade,” she said. “He’ll come back around. It was just a lot of information.”

Tasha looked up at Patterson and shook her head slightly. “I feel like I keep losing friends,” she said.

“I came back,” Patterson replied. “So, will Reade. This is your job. He’ll understand eventually.” Tasha looked away again and Patterson reached out with her splinted hand and laid it alongside her face. “Hey, don’t worry. We do what we have to sometimes. Endure and survive, okay?”

***

Tasha set her suitcase next to the door and glanced towards the wall clock. Her flight back to Paris was scheduled to leave in about four hours. She was anxious to get back into her op but didn’t want to leave. Patterson was still in the wheelchair and her hands were still mostly immobile. The home health aide would come by later in the evening and Weller was coming by in the morning to take her to an appointment, but Tasha still felt incredibly guilty about leaving her behind. She double checked the notes she left for Weller and the aide before returning to the living room and finding Patterson rolling herself slowly from the bedroom.

“Don’t worry,” Patterson told her. “I’ll be fine. You’ve overprepared.”

“I know,” Tasha replied and sat on the couch. She picked up a small box from the table and turned it in her hands. “I’m really sorry I have to leave, but I have something for you.”

Patterson rolled herself closer to Tasha and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re going away and I’m getting a gift? It’s supposed to be the other way around,” she said.

Tasha leaned forward and kissed her, caressing her cheek. “Here,” she said finally, placing the box in Patterson’s lap.

The blonde looked down at it for a moment. It was too small. There was no way she’d be able to open it herself.

“Tash, I can’t,” she said.

“I’ll help,” Tasha replied and picked the box back up. She lifted the lid away and tipped the open box towards her girlfriend so she could see the Leatherman branded pocketknife inside. She pulled the new Skeletool from the packaging, extended the short blade, and laid it in Patterson’s hand.

Patterson ran a finger over the engraving on the blade and smiled: _Endure & Survive._

“I thought you might want to replace your Leatherman,” Tasha said.

The blonde closed the knife back up and held it in her palm. She had been afraid to take her knife back but this new blade almost felt comforting. She leaned forward in her chair and kissed Tasha.

“Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Tasha nodded and stole a quick look at the clock. If she was going to make her flight, she needed to leave. She leaned her forehead against Patterson’s.

“I have to go,” she said quietly. “I will be back as soon as I can.”

Patterson kissed her again and watched as Tasha got off the couch and went to her suitcase.

“I promise to come back quickly,” Tasha said.

She grabbed the handle of her suitcase and went to the door. She gave Patterson a smile and a small wave before opening the door and leaving.


	14. Back in the New York Groove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My plot is feeling gelatinous. Like it's shifting beneath my feet. I apologize in advance for what feels like the disaster I'm heading towards. I've dug myself in too far to go back now.  And as always, thanks for your patience as I continue to chip away at this. 

Something was wrong with the lab. It took a few minutes to identify the exact problem but she suddenly saw it. Patterson pushed her chair across the room as quickly as she could and came to a stop just behind Rich. She hit him in the arm with the back of her right hand, the new metal splint scratching him lightly.

"You moved my computers," she accused. "You were supposed to oversee things not change things! Put it back. All of it. It's wrong. This is not how it goes."

Rich turned away from the computer he was working on and grinned at her.

"Patsy Cline! Welcome back!"

"Don't call me that," Patterson replied crossly. "What did you do to my lab, Rich? It's all wrong!"

Rich shrugged and looked around at the room full of busy techs.

"I don't know. It seems like it's working for everyone," he replied before eyeing her suspiciously. She was still in her wheelchair but the cast on her right hand had been replaced with a single metal splint. A thick white bandage and hinged brace now surrounded her left leg and it was no longer extended straight in front of her. "Do the doctors know you're back at work? Does Reade know you're here?"

"Of course they know I'm back," Patterson said. "And don't change the subject. Why did you mess with my stuff?"

Rich crossed him arms and leaned against the desk behind him. He stroked at his beard thoughtfully.

"You know, it's not really your stuff. It's the FBI's. And this worked better for me."

Patterson shook her head.

"I don't care," she said. "I am the head of the Forensic Science Unit. This is my lab. And I want things run the way I want them. And I'm back now so get to moving everything back where it belongs."

"Time off really doesn't agree with you, does it, Patty?" Rich chuckled.

Reade watched this from the entrance to the lab. Patterson was definitely back. She might be a little slower to get around but she was back, and it was nice to see her. She'd been out for just about a month and while Rich was doing a good job, he wasn't Patterson.

"She should have taken a little bit more time," Reade interrupted as he approached. "Hey Patterson. Weller said he brought you in today."

"Yes, I'm back and I'm ready to work, but the lab is all wrong," she said. There was no time for small talk about her injuries or recovery. She had work to do but it wasn't going to get done until everything was back the way she'd left it. She jabbed a splinted finger towards Rich. "He wrecked it."

Reade looked around the lab and frowned. It looked the same as it always did. He shook his head.

"I don't see it," he said and earned an exasperated sigh from Patterson. She was about to protest when Reade grabbed the handles of her chair and turned her towards the door leading out of the lab.

"Hey!" she yelled and grabbed for her wheels to try to stop the chair from rolling. "Reade!"

"Conference room," he said as he pushed the chair towards the door. "Weller's waiting for us."

Weller was sitting in the conference room when Reade rolled Patterson into the room and parked her chair at the table. He sat in a chair beside her as Rich filed into the room behind them. Jane was beside Weller, and Patterson's breath hitched at the sight of her. She relaxed slightly when Jane looked up and gave her a small smile before looking down at the table again. Patterson had experienced nightmares about Remi for about a week after returning home from her stay in the hospital. She'd woken up almost every night in a cold sweat and near tears. She hadn't told Tasha about them. There was nothing her girlfriend could do about them anyway so there was no point bothering her with them. If Tasha found out, however, she’d be upset that Patterson had kept them from her. The nightmares had stopped, though. Now Patterson didn’t dream at all.

This was the first time she'd seen her since their talk in the hospital. For a fleeting moment, Patterson was convinced it was Remi sitting beside Weller just waiting for her. Jane's smile, however, was genuine and not the wolfish thing Remi had flashed at her. It was Jane. She was sure of that. Patterson took a deep breath and offered her own smile.

"Hey Jane," she said pulling Jane's gaze away from the table.

"Welcome back," Jane said. "How are you?"

Patterson glanced at her newly cast-free hand and forced herself to have normal conversation with Jane. _It's Jane_ , she told herself. _Your friend. Not Remi. Talk to her._

"Good, actually. The cast came off this morning. The brace came off my left leg yesterday," she said. "Splints are coming off in two more weeks and the other brace should be off the week after that. So good. It's progress."

"That's great," Reade said. "So the chair —"

"Should be gone in three weeks," Patterson finished. "Maybe crutches after that for a little while. But I'm back now. I can use my hands again. Still a little slow but I'm ready to get back to work so... let's get back to work."

Reade glanced over to Rich and nodded for him to begin the briefing. He'd gotten very used to Rich leading the morning briefing, and he never considered how weird it might be for Patterson to listen to Rich Dotcom doling out the information. Rich leaned back in his chair and cracked his knuckles.

"Okay then, let's go back to Roman's drives, shall we? I've been going through them and segmenting out the data. The tattoo information, the ZIP information, all of it. It's all been split and databased. I think that'll make it a little easier to sort through —"

"I'd already done that," Patterson interrupted.

"But not like this," Rich said. "Trust me."

Patterson shook her head in exasperation. It almost felt like she'd become irrelevant since she'd been out and Rich had taken over. Rich! Of all people.

"Anyway," Rich continued, "once everything was segmented out, we were able to draw some more definite conclusions about the location of the drive Roman left for us in Tokyo. It seems like each drive is going to lead us to the next so if we go and get the first one, it should lead us to the next one and so on and so forth."

Patterson rolled her eyes. This was all bologna. It sounded like Rich was just riffing. She'd had all this information before being hospitalized.

"If Speedracer over there will stop rolling her eyes for a minute I could tell you that I think we know where at the shrine we can start looking for the drive," Rich said.

Now they had Patterson's attention. She'd been unable to narrow down an exact location but had thought Roman was pointing them to the Yushima Tenmangu Shrine.

"The shrine," Patterson said. "To the god of wisdom."

"Right," Rich continued. "That's what we - Patterson and I - thought. We were both pretty sure of it but the more I was able to dig into the data, it looks like we may have been wrong."

"What are you talking about?" Reade asked before Patterson could voice her own confusion.

"Okay, yeah," Rich said. "We're not looking at the shrine anymore. Forget about the shrine."

Weller narrowed his eyes and looked from Reade to Rich to Patterson. Just a few weeks ago Rich and Patterson had been about 75% certain the drive was directing them to the Yushima Tenmangu Shrine.

"What are you talking about, Rich?" he asked. "What about the shrine?"

"Forget the shrine. The shrine is yesterday's news," Rich replied. "I think it is anyway."

"So you guys were wrong about the shrine?" Jane asked, irritation creeping into her voice.

"What is ‘wrong’, anyway?" Rich said. "I mean, can one every truly be wrong? There is information available that is simply waiting to be uncovered and for a wise man to do a little digging."

Reade sighed and looked around the room. The same look of annoyance and confusion played on everyone's face. "Do you have something or not, Rich?"

Rich glanced at Patterson and then down to the table again. "No," he admitted a bit sheepishly. "Not really. I mean, there's some information about the Tokyo Tower that we overlooked but I... I can't find anything that Patterson hadn't already found."

"I knew it!" Patterson yelled. "You screwed up my lab and you've got nothing! Ha!"

Rich shook his head. "Not nothing. The Tokyo Tower. It's the second largest structure in Japan. You can see Mt. Fuji from there. It's supposed to be quite lovely."

“The Tokyo Tower,” Reade repeated. “What about it?”

Rich looked at each of them before continuing. He was less confident about this than he let on.

“Alright, Roman wrote ad nauseum about the Tokyo Tower, right? Particularly about the view if you climb it and look to the northeast. That’s the direction of the shrine,” Rich explained. “I think that if you climb up to the observation decks of the tower and look in that direction, we’ll get a better idea of what he wants us to see.”

Patterson was shaking her head. Rich was probably right. Roman most likely wanted them to go to Tokyo, climb the tower, and look northeast. What Rich was overlooking, however, was some of the most significant features of the Yushima Tenmangu Shrine. Visitors frequently left cedar planks behind or tied strips of paper to string asking for the god’s help with intellectual endeavors. Roman would have easily been able to leave the drive among the planks and it may never be found. She considered mentioning this but it was nothing more than what Rich had – a lot of nothing and conjecture.

“We need to go there then,” Jane said anxiously as she shifted in her seat.

“I want to wait,” Reade replied. “Until Patterson can travel with us.” He turned and looked at the scientist. “How long?”

“Three weeks maybe,” Patterson replied. She wanted to go immediately but she’d already argued with Tasha about this extensively. Tasha had been against her returning to work today. She wasn’t ready, she’d argued. But Patterson was tired of sitting around uselessly. She needed to work. Besides, Tasha wasn't even in the country. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

“Okay,” Reade said. “Three weeks. You, me, Rich, and Jane will all go to Tokyo.” He leveled his gaze back to Weller. “Weller can’t come with us because he’s been neglecting doctor’s orders.”

Jane smiled. “Is anyone really surprised by this?”

Weller saw the confusion on Patterson’s face. “I pulled some stitches and the doctors won’t let me back in the field.”

“And I’m not arguing with the doctors,” Reade finished. “Kurt’s grounded. For now.”

***

It wasn’t quite 3 p.m. yet and Patterson felt her energy lagging. Pushing herself around in the chair was a lot of work and she’d underestimated how much she moved around during the day. It wasn’t all just sitting at a computer like she’d told Tasha. Now she was slumped in front of a screen trying just to keep her eyes open as she stared blankly at the data Rich had segmented out from the drive.

“Need me to take you home?” Reade asked.

He’d been watching her all day and while Patterson had argued repeatedly that she was “perfectly fine,” he knew she was still a long way from being 100 percent.

Patterson looked up slowly from her keyboard and gave Reade a small defeated smile.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “If you’ve got time. I hate to admit it, but this day has completely kicked my ass.”

Reade was surprised to hear such an admission from Patterson. She was known to work herself to exhaustion, and if she was admitting defeat she had to really be feeling it. He nodded.

“Let me just grab my keys and I’ll meet you at the elevator,” Reade said as Patterson began gathering up the few things she’d brought with her that morning.

It was a short drive from the NYO to Patterson’s apartment. Manhattan traffic was unusually light and Reade was able to get door to door in less than 20 minutes. Patterson counted it as some kind of record as Reade helped her navigate through the corridor to her apartment door. She fumbled the key for a moment before he took it from her, unlocked the door and pushed it open so Patterson could wheel herself inside.

Tasha was sitting on the couch talking on her cellphone when the door opened. She gave Patterson a smile and small wave before she saw Reade standing behind her. She got to her feet and went to the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her. She ended her call after a couple of seconds and pressed an ear to the door. She heard Reade’s muffled voice and sat down on the bed. She refused to leave the room until he left.

Patterson watched Tasha go. She hadn’t expected to see the Latina today; when they'd spoken the previous day, Tasha she was in Amsterdam. This was a great and unexpected surprise. She sighed and turned her head to look at Reade who was also looking at the closed bedroom door.

“Are you ever gonna talk to her again?” Patterson asked.

Reade shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He looked away from the door and saw Patterson’s expectant gaze.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I trust her anymore. I don’t even know who she is,” Reade admitted and then rapped a knuckle on one of the wheelchair grips. “I’ve gotta get back to the office. Do you need a ride tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll call.”

Reade gave her a single nod before glancing back at the closed bedroom door. He turned then and left. Patterson waited a moment and listened as Reade’s footfalls disappeared down the hallway.

“He’s gone,” she called. “You can come out now.”

Tasha opened the bedroom door a minute later and shoved her phone back in her pocket. She saw the annoyed look on Patterson’s face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“You don’t have to hide from Reade, you know,” she said. The annoyance on her face also tinged her voice.

Tasha shook her head. “I wasn’t hiding,” she insisted. “I was on the phone with Keaton. I can’t talk in front of you guys. You know that."

Patterson struggled to get herself out of her chair using Tasha’s shoulder to support herself before falling clumsily onto the couch and stretching out along its length. She furrowed her brow and looked at Tasha.

“That’s a lie and you know it,” she said after a moment. “It might have been Keaton but you were hiding.”

“I was not hiding,” Tasha insisted a little less forcefully than before. “I had to finish my call.”

“And how long did you sit in the bedroom after you hung up?” Patterson asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tasha said as she turned to head towards the kitchen. “I’m getting something to drink. Do you want anything?”

“Water,” Patterson called after Tasha’s disappearing back. “And you were hiding!”

Tasha took her time in the kitchen grabbing a bottle of water for Patterson and a bottle of beer for herself. She had been hiding from Reade. After he’d blown up on her that morning in their kitchen, she didn’t know how to be around him anymore. On one hand she was furious that he was mad at her for doing her job. And on the other, she was furious with herself for having to lie to him. More than anything, however, she couldn’t figure out how Patterson could read her so well. She saw Tasha’s lies and was able to see right through them almost every time.

She closed the refrigerator door and popped the cap off her beer bottle. She drank long from the bottle and slumped against the closed door as she gathered her thoughts. Tasha sighed and started back into the living room, removing the plastic cap from the water bottle as she went. She handed the bottle to Patterson and dropped into the arm chair facing her.

“Fine,” she said after taking another swallow of beer. “I was avoiding him. But it’s not like he wanted to talk to me anyway.”

Patterson sipped at her water before answering. “You don’t know that.”

“I do, too,” Tasha said. “Did he stay? Is Reade here somewhere? Do I just not see him? No. He doesn’t want to talk to me either.”

Tasha sighed again and waited for Patterson’s response. There wasn’t one. She took another swig from her bottle and set it down on the table.

“But I didn’t come all the way back from Amsterdam to talk about Reade,” she said and gave a smile. “How are you? The plaster is gone.”

“Way to change the subject,” Patterson replied but smiled nonetheless before giving Tasha the latest update from the morning’s appointment to remove the cast. She finished what she’d come to consider her daily report and looked back at Tasha. “When do you leave?”

Tasha got up from the chair and went to the couch. She carefully sat down on the arm of the couch where Patterson’s head was resting. She stroked her blonde hair and smiled at her.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “I’m here for a while. That’s what my call with Keaton was about. How would you feel about me coming back to the NYO for a bit?”

Patterson sat up and tried to turn to face Tasha but her movements were restricted by her leg brace.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Back to the NYO?”

Tasha got up from her perch on the arm of the couch and sat on the couch beside Patterson. She licked her lips and let out a breath.

“There’s a connection between the drives Roman left behind and my op with the CIA, Blake Crawford, and HCI Global,” she explained. “Keaton’s making some calls to get the task force back together. And I’m part of that.”

Patterson searched Tasha’s face for a sign that she might not be telling her the truth and grinned. “You’re staying?”

“I’m staying.” Tasha grabbed Patterson’s hand and brought it to her lips. She kissed the back of her hand and smiled. “I’m not going anywhere for a while.”


	15. Putting the Band Back Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Welcome back, Agent Zapata.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so slow-going. I thought this would wrap more quickly but I've sketched out about five more chapters. No idea when I'm going to find time to write them. But I will write them. I hate leaving things unfinished.

Tasha leaned against an empty desk with her arms crossed over her chest and watched the argument between Reade and Keaton. Keaton had been waiting for Reade and had followed him from the elevator to his office. Now they were engaged in an animated conversation behind the glass panes of Reade’s office, and Reade wasn’t happy. Tasha couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto her face, and Patterson noticed it as she rolled up next to her to watch the show.

“Don’t look so amused,” Patterson teased.

“I can’t help it,” Tasha admitted, laughing. “Look how mad Reade is. It looks like he’s gonna explode!”

Reade slammed the file folder Keaton handed him down on his desk. The top cover flew open briefly to reveal a stack of official looking documents — Tasha’s reinstatement paperwork most likely. They were arguing about Tasha rejoining the task force in the search for the missing drives and, as Tasha had expected, Reade wasn’t thrilled to have Keaton back in his office or that he might have to begin working side by side with his former best friend. From the look of things, Tasha thought Keaton was winning but Reade wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Reade glanced to his left, out through the glass into the hallway where agents were hurrying past. He spotted Tasha with her arms crossed and a grin on her face as she chatted with Patterson. Reade frowned at them and shook his head slightly before turning back to Keaton.

“He’s gonna cave,” Patterson said as she looked back to Tasha and gave her a smile. “Welcome back, Agent Zapata.”

***

Reade’s frown was almost as deep as Keaton’s smile was broad. They stood in SIOC and surveyed the gathered team, and Reade’s eyes fell on Tasha as he scanned each of their faces. He quickly looked away. They hadn’t spoken since he’d stormed out of her apartment that morning after she admitted to still being CIA. Now she was about to rejoin the task force and Reade wondered if he’d be able to trust her. She’d spent the better part of a year sharing selective information with them and he worried that was about to continue. Keaton assured him, however, that they had the full cooperation of the CIA but his assurances meant little.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” Reade said when everyone had gathered. He hesitated a moment before continuing. He licked his lips nervously. “We’re reinstating the tattoo task force effective immediately.”

“What? Why?” Jane asked, her brow creasing in confusion. “I mean, what for? Crawford is dead. Roman is dead. That should be the end of it.”

Reade glanced at Keaton before looking back at the group. He avoided Zapata’s eyes. Instead he turned slightly, angling away from the CIA agent, to face Jane.

“The CIA has reason to believe that the thumb drives Roman left behind may also contain information about some of the work Roman was doing for HCI Global —”

“Blake Crawford is looking for them,” Keaton interrupted. “And it’s not gonna take her long to find where Roman’s stashed them. If she finds them, she’s probably not gonna share them with the FBI.”

Jane shook her head. “I don’t understand. What’s the CIA’s interest in this?”

Tasha opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself. The task force was being reinstated and she was certain that just by being there, the team knew that meant she was back as well. But she didn’t want to speak out of turn. She was already walking on eggshells around the team and didn’t want to break any thin threads of trust that might still exist. Keaton saw her hesitation and gave her a nod.

“Tasha can explain that,” Keaton said.

She bit her lip as the eyes of her team members all fell on her. She caught Patterson’s eye. The blonde gave her a tiny reassuring nod, and Tasha took a deep breath.

“I’m been embedded with Blake, working at HCI Global, as part of an undercover op for the CIA,” she explained. Patterson, Weller, and Reade already knew this but she was unsure if Rich or Jane knew. Not that she much cared what Jane knew. She wasn’t even sure if they were dealing with Jane or Remi. Being so close to her made her skin crawl. “The CIA is interested in any information about HCI that might be on the drives but Blake is interested in all of it. She knows that Roman wasn’t who he claimed, and she’s afraid there’s information on the drives that might further incriminate her father, her business, and herself. She wants to start looking for the drives as soon as possible. And Keaton’s right: she won’t share.”

Weller cleared his throat and put his hands on his hips. He turned to face Tasha, Keaton, and Patterson.

“How does Blake even know about the drives? We haven’t told anyone,” he said, gesturing to Rich, Reade, Jane and himself. He gave Tasha a slightly distrustful look and felt ashamed. He’d told her he understood all of her subterfuge but now it felt like she may have been playing both sides. Again. If Blake knew about the drives, she could have learned about them from Tasha who would have learned about them from Patterson. Just because the information about the drives was classified didn’t mean Patterson wouldn’t have shared the intel with her girlfriend.

Tasha looked to Keaton again. She didn’t want to go down the same path she had the last time she’d worked with the task force. She was CIA not FBI and that is exactly how she wanted to remain. Her loyalties were staunchly in the same corner as Jake Keaton. He gave her another nod.

“Hank Crawford’s attorney Kira Evans told Blake about them,” she explained. “Kira didn’t like or trust Roman —

“Perceptive girl,” Jane muttered under her breath.

“— and she saw him with all of these thumb drives,” Tasha continued. “She asked about them and he told her it was nothing but a journal he kept to help with his PTSD.”

Weller shook his head and crossed his arms. “What PTSD? Roman didn’t have PTSD.”

“It was part of his cover as Tom Jakeman. The real Tom suffered from PTSD —that’s how Roman met him,” Patterson supplied, remembering the information she’d uncovered after hacking Vanessa Baker’s laptop and doing her own follow-up research.

Tasha nodded. “Right,” she agreed. “But Blake knows about Roman. That he was lying to her. So, now she wants to recover those drives before anyone else can so she can protect her family name and her company.”

“How?” Reade asked.

Tasha furrowed her brow. “How what?”

“How did she know about Roman?” he clarified impatiently.

“I told her,” Tasha said simply, her eyes narrowing. She fixed Jane with an icy stare. “The FBI was never going to arrest or take down Roman. He should have been put in jail years ago. Someone had to do something about him. So I told her. And Blake was willing to do what no one else was.”

“Just couldn’t pull the trigger yourself, huh?” Jane asked bitterly.

“I wouldn’t have had that problem. Blake wanted to. She insisted on it,” Tasha replied flatly. She hesitated and looked around the room. “You’re all underestimating Blake. You see this beautiful blonde woman and think she’s just some spoiled rich girl. Blake Crawford is a snake —”

Reade raised his eyebrows and snorted derisively.

“Shut up, Reade. This is not about us. I don’t care if you don’t like me or trust me but you have to understand what you’re dealing with,” Tasha snapped. She regained control of her voice. “I have spent more time with Blake Crawford than anyone else in this room. Blake is dangerous. She’s sneaky. Resourceful. And she hides behind that perky ‘I’m your friend’ demeanor. If she wants these drives, she will get them. And she will not care what she has to do to get them. And she will not just hand them over to you because there may be a cure for ZIP poisoning.”

Weller sighed and stepped between Tasha, Jane, and Reade. He held a hand up. The situation could spiral out of control. There was no love lost between the two women even before Tasha admitted to giving Blake the ammunition she needed to kill Jane’s brother. And if Jane was close to relapsing, a confession like knowing the identity of her brother’s killer could send her over the edge. And Reade could barely stand to look at Tasha. The task force was going to be interesting.

“Okay, so Blake wants the drives,” Weller interrupted. “Does she know where to start looking?”

Tasha shook her head and looked to Keaton.

“She has some ideas,” Keaton said. “She’s checking an apartment in Tom Jakeman’s name and she’s got documents for all the travel Roman did for Crawford. So far, though, nothing concrete. She’s sent Tasha home to try to use her relationship with Patterson to dig out some intel.”

Patterson whipped her head around to look at Tasha, a look of dismay on her face. “She wants to use you to get at what I know?”

“It’s not like I’m going to do that, P,” Tasha said softly. “I would never do that to you. I’m hoping to feed her some false intel for a little while to buy you guys some time to start gathering the drives.”

Reade rolled his eyes. _No, it would be totally unlike Tasha to take advantage of a friendship or her position to get what she wanted_ , he thought. He knew better. If Blake was really as Tasha described, then they were made for each other. It seemed to him that the Tasha he once worked with would never do that but the Tasha who’d gone to the CIA and then lied to them for the better part of a year didn’t care who she hurt just as long as she got what she wanted. Tasha saw Reade’s reaction and stared him down until he looked away.

Keaton saw Reade’s reaction as well.

“Look, I get it,” he said. “There’s a lot of mixed feelings here. Things didn’t exactly end well the last time we were all in this room but we’re gonna have to put all that crap aside and work together on this. We want the drives. The FBI wants the drives. And Blake wants the drives. I think we can all agree that we can’t let Blake get them first. So we need to start banding together to track them down as quickly as we can.”

Patterson shook her head and gestured to her wheelchair. “We know where one drive is. Or at least we’re pretty sure, but I can’t go anywhere right now.”

Keaton nodded. “That’s okay. We can delay Blake, I think. She’s not quite ready to go hunting yet and she’s going to want Tasha to go with her.”

“I can tell her I need to stay with Patterson until she’s out of the chair,” Tasha suggested. “She was really sympathetic to that last time.”

“Good. That’s good,” Keaton said. “How much time does that buy?”

“Two weeks,” Patterson replied. “That’ll give me some time to track Roman’s — Tom Jakeman’s — passport activity. If we know where he’s been, I might be able to find the rest of the drives.”

“Let’s do it then,” Reade said. “Patterson, see how far you can track Roman’s movements. Tasha, go lie your ass off. That way we’ll all be working to our strengths.”

He tucked the folder he was carrying under his arm and left SIOC for his office. Tasha watched him go, a frown on her face. She’d half hoped that by coming back to work at the NYO, she’d be able to start repairing her relationship with Reade. That didn’t seem like a possibility now. She considered following him but decided it might be best to give him some space. For now.

***

Patterson hefted herself onto the couch and stretched out as much as her leg brace would allow. She reached for the scientific journal on the coffee table but Tasha beat her to it, snatching it up and handing it to her before hurrying around to where her head was resting on the couch’s arm.

“Up,” Tasha commanded and slid a pillow behind the blonde’s head when Patterson reluctantly complied. “Do you need anything? A drink? A snack? Is it too hot in here?”

Patterson laid the journal down on her chest and let out a deep sigh. “Tasha, stop fussing,” she said. “I don’t need anything, and if I did, I could get it myself. I get around really well now.”

Tasha was already on the way to the kitchen. She didn’t slow her pace.

“Water? Beer? Wine?” Tasha called over her shoulder. “Juice?”

“Tasha!” Patterson called back. “Stop fussing! Come back here.”

Patterson struggled back into a sitting position and set her journal down on her lap. She drummed her fingers on its cover and waited for Tasha to reappear. The brunette returned carrying two bottles of beer.

“Tasha, I didn’t need anything,” Patterson said more quietly and patted the cushion beside her. “Sit. Please.”

Tasha handed a bottle to Patterson and sat down on the couch next to her. She took a sip of her beer and turned it anxiously in her hands. She didn’t know what to do. Being back in New York was wonderful. Seeing Patterson and just sitting beside her was wonderful. But she just didn’t know what to do anymore. Patterson was right. She was getting around really well, but Tasha still felt obliged to help her in any and every way possible. Tasha could sense a small degree of anger coming from her girlfriend and she knew that she’d been hovering, and it was probably driving Patterson crazy.

“I’m not mad,” Patterson said calmly. “I just need you to back off a little bit. I need you to be less like my mom or my nurse and more like my girlfriend. Can you do that?”

Tasha set her beer down on the table and leaned back on the couch. She closed her eyes and let out a long slow breath.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment of silence. “I know you’re capable. You’re the most capable person I know, but I don’t know what to do for you. I feel like I should be helping you.”

Patterson leaned against Tasha and rested her head on her shoulder. She’d missed this. Just those simple moments alone with Tasha, sitting on their couch, and just being together. With Tasha always running out the door at Blake’s beck and call and Patterson having spent the last month covered in plaster or a series of braces, those moments had been very few and far between.

“I don’t need your help,” Patterson said as she shifted on the couch to snuggle a little closer to Tasha. “I love that you want to help but this, this right here? This is all what I want from you. So stop running around, getting me things I don’t need, and just stay here with me.”

Tasha rested her head on Patterson’s and took her hand, running her thumb over the knuckles. They sat quietly for a moment before Patterson lifted her head to look back up at Tasha.

“It’s really nice having you home,” she said finally. “This is nice. It feels empty here when you’re not here. It’s neater but emptier.”

Tasha laughed and looked at the chaos she’d left in her wake. She’d tossed her jacket haphazardly on a chair and her purse was on the floor near the door. Her suitcase had been dropped near the short hall leading to the bedroom but it was still in the middle of the floor. She’d dropped their mail on top of her purse but it was now scattered on the floor beside her keys that had fallen out of her bag. She thought about the two bottle caps she’d left on the kitchen counter.

“I am a little messy, aren’t I?”

Patterson nodded and gave Tasha a smile. “A little mess is okay if it means that you’re here.”

Tasha didn’t respond for a minute as she looked at the tiny disaster she’d created in such short order. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Blake was coming by soon and Tasha would have to get up and at least pick the mail and her keys up from the floor. Patterson followed Tasha’s gaze to the clock.

“Blake will be here soon,” she said.

Tasha nodded. “Mmhmm.”

“You’re thinking about the mess and you need to get up and pick up.”

Another nod.

“And you’re worried that she won’t buy your reason for not rushing off to search for Roman’s drives.”

Tasha squeezed Patterson’s hand lightly. “How are you able to read me so well?”

Patterson lifted her head off Tasha’s shoulder and turned to look at her again. “Because you’re you,” she said, kissing her lightly. “And I love you. I know you better than anyone.”

***

Tasha had just finished putting her suitcase away in the bedroom when Blake knocked on the front door. Patterson had moved from the couch back into her wheelchair and she’d adopted her most pitiful, pathetic, and helpless look.

“You ready for a little show?” Tasha asked, her voice barely a whisper as she walked past the wheelchair.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Patterson said as she scooped up the journal she’d discarded earlier and opened it.

Tasha peered through the peephole and saw Blake Crawford waiting on the other side. She quickly unchained the door and turned the lock to open the door. She gave Tasha a small, tired-looking smile.

“Hi Blake,” she said. “Thanks for coming.”

She stepped aside and allowed Blake to enter the apartment.

“Of course, Tasha,” Blake replied. She spotted Patterson across the room and gave her a smile. “Hi Patterson.”

Patterson looked up from her journal and put a semi-confused look on her face as if she wasn’t expecting a visitor or simply hadn’t heard the door.

“Blake! Hi!” she smiled. She turned her head to give Tasha a frown. “Tash, you didn’t tell me Blake was coming. I could have arranged to be somewhere else. Give me a hand and I’ll make myself scarce.”

Tasha gave Blake a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry,” she said as she went to the rear of Patterson’s wheelchair and grabbed the grips. “This will just take a second.”

She wheeled Patterson into the bedroom just out of direct sight of the living room. She crouched in front of the chair and gave Patterson a quick kiss. “Is this okay? Will you be able to hear?”

Patterson kissed her back and then shooed Tasha towards the door. “Yes, go. I’ll call for you in a minute.”

Tasha gave Patterson a lingering look before heading back into the living room, closing the door lightly behind her. Blake was standing in front of a small side table studying a framed photo of the couple in what appeared to be Central Park. She gave Blake an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that. I forgot to tell her you were coming and everything is still a process,” she apologized. “Can I get you a drink or anything?”

Blake shook her head and followed Tasha to the sitting area. She sat in the armchair across from where Tasha sat on the couch and crossed her legs.

“How is Patterson?” Blake asked. “She looks a little better.”

Tasha nodded. “She is. Everything is healing. It’s just been slow, and she’s sick of needing help with everything,” Tasha replied. “She’s had a home health aide here every day since I left.”

That was a lie. They’d concocted the story while cuddling on the couch earlier, and Patterson had urged Tasha to make her sound as dependent and needy as possible. The next part of the plan was dependent on Blake’s reaction and Tasha tried not to watch for the other woman’s reaction too closely.

“That sounds expensive,” Blake replied.

“Yeah. Insurance has covered some of it but... what are you gonna do right? I can’t be here with her and she needs someone here so...” she trailed off.

Blake gave her a sympathetic smile. “How long does she have to be in the wheelchair?”

“Two more weeks,” Tasha replied. “Then that brace comes off her leg and then its physical therapy to get her walking on it again. It’s just been a lot —”

A loud bang from the bedroom interrupted Tasha and both women turned their attention to the bedroom door. Tasha had been expecting something but she jumped anyway. It almost sounded like Patterson had fallen out of her chair.

“Patterson?” she called. “Are you okay?”

Silence from the bedroom.

“Patterson?”

Silence.

Tasha looked back at Blake and immediately got to her feet. Patterson was supposed to create a reason for Tasha to check on her to show Blake how helpless she was but that bang sounded pretty real. Maybe this wasn’t part of the act. Patterson could really be hurt in there.

“I’ve got to check on her,” Tasha said as she made her way quickly to the bedroom door and pushed inside, closing the door behind her. She looked around the room. Patterson wasn’t where she’d left her and Tasha’s first instinct was right. Patterson wasn’t in her chair anymore. It lay tipped on its side next to the closet door. But instead of being sprawled on the floor next to the chair, Patterson was stretched out on the bed, grin on her face and scientific journal in her hand.

“Did that sound as bad as I think it did?” Patterson whispered.

“What did you do?” Tasha asked. “It sounded like you fell out of your chair!”

Patterson grinned and suppressed a laugh. “I got on the bed and shoved the chair as hard as I could at the closet door,” she said and studied the door. “Might have dented the door a little bit.”

“Who cares about the door?” Tasha replied, sitting down beside Patterson on the bed. “I really though you got hurt.”

Patterson leaned forward and kissed Tasha lightly. “I’m fine. But that’s not what you’re gonna tell Blake, right?”

Tasha shook her head. “You were reaching for something in the closet and tipped the chair,” she said as she stood back up and righted the chair. She wheeled it next to the bed. “You need to be more careful. But seriously? You scared the hell out of me.”

Patterson gave her a wink as Tasha made her way back to the door. “I’m fine,” she said more loudly than necessary. “I’m sorry. Go.”

Tasha closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment with her eyes closed before returning to her spot on the couch.

“I’m really sorry about that,” she said. “She was reaching for something in the closet and tipped the chair.”

“Oh my god. Is she okay?”

Tasha nodded as she returned to her spot on the couch. “Yeah, just bruised her ego a little. Patterson is getting anxious to get out of the chair. She keeps trying to do everything herself but...” she let herself trail off again.

Blake bit her lip and looked towards the bedroom door.

“Two weeks, huh?”

“Yeah.”

 _Hook. Line. Sinker_ , Tasha thought. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling and studied her hands. She was afraid that if she looked at Blake she might blow it. Silence filled the room for what seemed like an eternity and Tasha finally looked up. Blake was staring at her.

“You really love her, don’t you?” Blake asked, holding Tasha’s gaze.

“You have no idea,” Tasha said without thinking. “She’s my everything.”

Blake said nothing and Tasha thought she looked a little sad. Finally, she stood and headed towards the door. She stopped when she reached it and turned back around. She smiled at Tasha.

“Stay here with Patterson until she’s out of the chair,” she said. “I think she needs you more than a home health aide and you probably need her just as much. Call me when you’re ready to help me find Roman’s drives. I want you with me for this, but I can wait a few weeks.” She lowered her voice and glanced back towards the bedroom door. “Maybe you can find out if the FBI knows anything about them?”

Tasha hummed and gave her a noncommittal nod. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll see what I can find out. Thank you.”

Blake nodded and turned back to the door and put her hand on the knob. She started to turn it but stopped and abruptly turned back to face Tasha.

“You should think about doing something about it,” she said.

Tasha arched an eyebrow. “Something about what?”

“You and Patterson,” she said. “I’ve seen you with her and without her and you seem so much happier when you’re with her – even though everything is hard right now. And if you love her half as much as you seem to, you should do something about it.” She turned back to the door and pulled it open. “Call me in two weeks and we’ll head out.”

Tasha watched Blake walk down the hallway towards the elevator. Her words echoed in her head. _Do something about it._

She vaguely heard the door to the bedroom open and the sound of wheels on the wooden floor approaching but Tasha was lost in her thoughts. _Do something about it._

“Tash?” Patterson asked as she approached and followed her girlfriend’s gaze towards the elevator. “Everything okay?”

Tasha closed her eyes and shook her head slightly to bring herself out of her thoughts. She closed the door softly and turned to find Patterson staring at her.

“Yeah. Everything’s good,” she said. “We’ve got our two weeks.”


	16. Like a Rat in a Cage

Remi opened her eyes and didn’t know where she was. She studied the tiled walls.

 _There are 117 concrete seams_ , Remi thought. She wasn’t sure why she knew this but that sounded right. She sat up on the bed and scanned the room. _Not a room_ , she corrected herself. _A cell_.

Remi rubbed her temples and squeezed her eyes shut again as she sat up and put her feet on the floor. A mild headache thudded behind her eyes. She didn’t know how she’d gotten here and wondered fleetingly if she’d done something and perhaps was under arrest. And then she remembered Patterson. Maybe she was under arrest. She stood up and went to the cell’s glass front and peered out.

She was about to call out for whoever was watching her on the closed-circuit monitors when Weller came around the corner and smiled at her. He put a hand on the glass near her own hand as he fumbled with the keys for the cell.

“Morning, Jane,” he said. “How you feeling? Any headaches?”

 _He called me Jane_ , Remi thought and smiled back at him.

“Uh, good. No, no headaches,” Remi lied. “I was just about to call for someone to let me out.”

Weller stepped aside as the door swung open.

“Yeah, sorry,” he replied a bit sheepishly. “I got caught up talking to Patterson and was a little late getting down here.”

Remi tried to keep the shock off her face. _Patterson was at the NYO?_ She knew was missing time. The last thing Remi remembered was Patterson tied to a chair and bleeding. If Patterson was back at work, she had to be missing a large block of time.

“Patterson’s here already?” she asked, looking for a clock. “What time is it?”

Weller caught Remi around the waist as she stepped out of the cell and kissed her. “Early enough to still say good morning properly to my wife,” he said. “Patterson’s been coming in early lately since Tasha’s been back. She’s trying to make up for lost time, and we’ve only got a little more than a week before you all leave for Tokyo.”

Remi followed Weller out towards the locker room as he spoke. She paid close attention to her surroundings. A lot had changed since the last memory she had at the NYO, not the least of which was the news that Natasha Zapata had returned to the FBI. She wondered if Jane and Patterson were speaking to each other and what Patterson looked like. It couldn’t be too much time — the team still hadn’t gone to Tokyo. _How much time am I missing?_ Remi thought as they stopped outside of the locker room. She pointed to the door.

“I’m gonna go get cleaned up,” Remi said. “I’ll, uh, meet you for the briefing?”

Weller checked his watch.

“Yeah, we’ve got about 12 minutes,” he said and took a step closer to her. “Do you need any help? Maybe reaching your back?”

Remi gave Weller a soft smile and put a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly.

“I think it’ll be faster if I handle this alone,” she said before disappearing inside the room.

***

Natasha Zapata sat on the edge of Patterson’s desk. Remi was too far away to hear their conversation but she noted the body language. Zapata’s legs were crossed, and she was leaning down towards the blonde as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She was smiling at Patterson whose hands were flying as she carried on an animated conversation. Remi remembered then: _Patterson and Zapata are lovers._ She wondered if it was still a secret or if the team all knew. The two women looked comfortable together, and Remi wagered that everyone knew.

Remi studied Patterson. The scientist looked remarkably well considering the state she’d been in the last time she'd had seen her. There was a small scar on her face near the corner of her lip and she had a leg propped out straight in front of her but the damage appeared to be healing.

 _I’m missing weeks_ , Remi thought. _It’s been weeks._

She turned her gaze away from the two women and started towards Weller and Reade who had already gathered in front of the monitors in SIOC. Weller handed her a paper cup of coffee and she gave him a smile before sipping at it.

“Hey Jane,” Reade greeted her. “How’s holding treating you?”

Remi took a swallow of her coffee.

“Not so bad,” she said. “It’s definitely quiet down there.”

Weller looked towards Patterson and Tasha, catching Tasha’s eye and gesturing them for the briefing.

“Well, the sooner we find those drives, the sooner we can get this all figured out and you can start sleeping at home again,” he said.

Remi smiled. “Can’t wait.”

Tasha followed Patterson into SIOC for the briefing. She’d offered to push the chair but Patterson had demurred, grabbed Tasha’s reaching hand, kissed it, and insisted on maneuvering the wheelchair herself. She rolled in front of the group.

“Sorry, sorry,” Patterson said as she came to a stop. “I got distracted and lost track of time.”

She threw a playful look of annoyance at Tasha and the brunette looked away, taking a sip from her own coffee cup.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

Reade rolled his eyes. He didn’t have a problem with their relationship but he still wasn’t speaking to Tasha. He’d barely spoken a dozen words to her since she’d returned to the NYO. Weller had urged him to get over it. He’d have to start talking to her eventually but Reade had shut him down, telling him to mind his own business.

“Anyway,” Patterson continued, “My guys have been going through the drives. Again. Constantly. That’s pretty much all they’ve been doing lately, and we’re hitting a wall.”

“A wall?” Weller interrupted. “What do you mean?”

“Just what it sounds like,” Patterson explained. “A wall. We’ve got the bit about Tokyo and the blueprints for Jane’s tattoos but most of what’s on there is almost like it’s been written for a specific reader. And that reader isn’t me or anyone on my team.” She fixed her gaze at Jane. “I think Roman was writing specifically for you.”

“For me?” Remi asked. She blinked in surprise. “Why do you think he was writing for me?”

Patterson cued up an excerpt of text that seemed to reference a game of mancala from the drive and displayed it on the monitors.

“Does this mean anything to you?” she asked.

Remi read the text silently for a moment. It seemed familiar but she couldn’t place what Roman might have been driving at. She shook her head.

“I don’t remember,” she admitted. “Maybe? I mean, we used to play mancala as kids all the time. But I don’t know if this is supposed to be something specific. I just don’t remember.”

Patterson sighed. This was the problem she’d continuously been bumping up against. Everything seemed just vague enough that she was having a hard time making sense of large chunks of it. Some of the text was almost like an inside joke, and she wasn’t part of the joke.

“I’ve got a crazy idea,” Tasha said, clearing her throat and stepping up closer to the monitors. “Jane isn’t the only one who might know how Roman was thinking. There is one other person.”

Reade raised an eyebrow. “You don’t mean Shepherd?”

Tasha nodded. “She’s still in CIA custody,” Tasha explained. “I could call Keaton. We might be able to arrange for an interview with her.”

No one spoke for a minute. And then Reade was nodding.

“Make that call.”

“Okay,” Tasha said. She pulled her phone from her pocket and walked away from the group.

Remi stood quietly while Patterson continued the briefing. She was no longer listening to whatever the scientist had to say; she was solely focused on Zapata’s mention of Shepherd.

 _Zapata knows where Shepherd is_ , Remi thought. For the first time since she woke up in the hospital, Phase 2 didn’t seem so far out of reach. _If Zapata can get Shepherd here, we might be able to make something happen. I could get her out of here._

Patterson was continuing on with some discussion about Blake Crawford, but Remi was only hearing fragments of her briefing. It wasn’t like anyone was looking for her to contribute anyway. She wondered if she’d be able to spend any time alone with Shepherd. If she could, Remi was certain she could spring her from CIA custody. Even if she couldn’t get her alone, Remi thought she might be able to tail the CIA transport back to wherever Shepherd was being kept. She was 100% confident that she could free her. And, once freed, they could get back to work on reinstating Phase 2.

***

Remi sat on the bench in front of her locker and rubbed her temples. A mild headache was playing just behind her left eye. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the locker. This headache was worse than the one she’d woken up with, and Remi thought back to the side effects Patterson had told her about all those weeks ago. The ZIP poisoning had to be progressing. She put the palms of her hands against her eyes and rubbed. The locker room was dark and it helped her head but the headache wasn’t any less. She let out a sigh and rested her face in her hands.

The door to the locker room opened and Remi heard footsteps approaching. She opened her eyes and straightened up.

“You okay?” Weller asked.

Remi nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I was just thinking about bringing Shepherd into this. I didn’t think I was going to see her again. “

Weller sat down beside her. “I know the last time she was here it didn’t go so well, but if she might know anything, we need to take the shot.”

Remi nodded again. “I know.”

“You ready to go?” Weller asked, as he got back to his feet. He pulled the keys to holding from his pocket.

Remi didn’t respond. She didn’t quite understand what he was talking about. She still didn’t know why she’d woken up in holding. He sat down again and took Jane’s hand.

“Look, Jane, I know this whole thing with Shepherd is scary,” he began, “but if we can get her to cooperate, she might be able to help us shed some light on the clues Roman left behind. Shepherd might be our best shot right now.”

***

Weller closed the door to holding and stood back as Jane went to the bunk and stretched out on it. She hadn’t said much since the locker room and he worried that bringing Shepherd in might be a mistake. Jane was sick. Seeing her mother again might just make it worse. She didn’t seem like herself. If she was on the verge of a headache or an aneurism, Shepherd’s reappearance could push her over the edge. And so, he worried.

“Goodnight, Jane,” he said. When she didn’t respond, he turned and walked away.

Remi closed her eyes as she laid on the bunk and tried to will her headache away. She heard Weller’s footsteps disappearing, and she squeezed her eyes closed tightly. She felt them begin to water, and she wiped at them with her hand, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Her hand came away wet and she looked down at it. A bright red trail of blood covered the back of her hand and she touched her nose again. Her fingers came away bloody.

She grabbed for a piece of tissue from the box on the floor beside the bunk and held it to her face to try to stanch the bleeding. A sharp wave of pain roared through her head and Remi felt dizzy. She closed her eyes and let darkness fall over her.

She didn’t know how long she laid there but Jane opened her eyes to find her white tank top and hands covered in blood. Panic washed over her as she sat up and looked around. Jane didn’t know the last time she’d had a bloody nose but this one had to be bad. Her shirt was soaked.

Jane got off the bunk and went to the front of the cell. She banged her firsts on the glass and stared into the unblinking eye of the closed-circuit camera aimed at the cell. She waved her hands in front of her and hoped someone was monitoring the feed. Something was wrong. She needed help.


	17. The Hunt Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not write fight scenes well. I apologize in advance.

Patterson fidgeted on the exam table. She was ready to jump down, pull the brace off her leg, and run to the NYO if she had to, but Tasha’s firm grip on her forearm kept her seated.

“Stop fidgeting,” Tasha scolded. “You’ll get to leave soon enough. Just be patient.”

“I’ve been patient for six weeks, Tasha. Six weeks,” Patterson protested.

“So, what’s five more minutes?”

Patterson sighed and stared at the door as if her stare alone could will the doctor into the room. They’d been waiting for Dr. Lorenzo for at least 10 minutes and she was growing more and more impatient with each passing second. Today was the day she’d been dreaming about for the last six weeks: Brace Removal Day. No more brace on her knee and no more splints on her fingers. She was looking forward to not being confined to a wheelchair and getting the full use of her hands back. But before any of that could happen, she needed Dr. Lorenzo to grace them with his presence.

“This is ridiculous,” Patterson complained as she turned her head to look at Tasha. “Where is he? What is taking so long?”

“Oh my god,” Tasha said. “You need to relax. Give the guy a break. Doctors are always running late. Besides, once he comes in here and takes away all the things that are pissing you off, you’ll love him again.”

“I never loved him,” Patterson groused and returned her gaze to the closed door of the exam room.

Tasha let go of her grip on Patterson’s arm and walked in front of the table to face her, obscuring the blonde’s view of the door.

“But you love me, right?” she asked and arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Of course.”

“After Dr. Lorenzo takes away the brace and splints, you won’t be broken any more,” Tasha continued as she took one of her girlfriend’s hands. “And if you’re not broken, I won’t be afraid of hurting you.”

“You don’t hurt me,” Patterson said and tried to look past Tasha. And then the true meaning of Tasha’s words hit her and she looked back into Tasha’s eyes. “Oh. OH!”

Tasha laughed and kissed Patterson. “For someone so smart, you’re awfully slow sometimes.”

Patterson started to respond when the door to the exam room opened and Dr. Lorenzo walked in carrying a thick file containing Patterson’s medical information. He set it down on a counter and came around to the side of the exam table as Tasha stepped back.

“Patterson,” the doctor said cheerfully. “It’s nice to see you. I see you have another member of your support team today. Hello again, Tasha.” He glanced at Tasha and gave her a short nod.

“Hey doc,” Patterson replied and gave him a phony smile. “Tell me today is the day.”

“Today is the day,” Dr. Lorenzo confirmed as he sat down on a stool and rolled up alongside the table. “I was just going through your latest x-rays. I hope you aren’t too attached to all this metal holding you together because it's all going away. Right. Now.”

***

“This is bologna,” Patterson complained from her seat on the subway next to Tasha.

“What is?” Tasha asked as she looked up from her phone.

“This,” Patterson said and grabbed for the crutches on the floor in front of her. She held them up in front of Tasha and shook them. “These. These stupid things.”

“Would you rather have the wheelchair back?”

“No,” Patterson sulked and set the crutches back on the floor.

Tasha tucked her phone into her jacket pocket and took one of Patterson's hands. She threaded their fingers together for the first time in more than six weeks and kissed the back of Patterson’s hand.

“Would you like the splints back?”

“No.”

She put her other hand on Patterson’s knee and traced small circles just above where the brace had stabilized her shattered kneecap.

“What about the brace on this knee? Do you want that back?”

“No.”

“Hmmm,” Tasha said. “Seems like crutches are a pretty good trade off, cariño.”

Patterson didn’t respond. Tasha was right. The crutches were much better than the wheelchair and she had full use of her hands again. She could type! She could stand up! But she’d had high expectations of walking out of the doctor’s office and strolling back into the lab unassisted. She’d been foiled by a set of aluminum crutches and now she was grouchy.

She readjusted her grip on Tasha’s hand and realized it was the first time she’d been able to hold her girlfriend’s hand in nearly two months and felt herself welling up. She looked away and focused her gaze out the window at the blackness of the subway tunnel as they raced across midtown towards the Federal Building.

***

Jane grabbed Weller’s arm as he passed in the corridor and pulled him into the conference room.

“Do you have a second?” she asked as she down sat in one of the chairs.

Weller sat down next to her with a concerned look on his face.

“Sure,” he said. “Is everything okay? You have a headache or anything?”

Jane shook her head and then gave a half shrug. Everything wasn’t okay. She’d woken up with a massive bloody nose for the second time in a week, and she found herself struggling to remember basic things. If asked right now, she wasn’t certain she could even provide her own phone number.

“Something’s wrong,” Jane said finally. “I’ve woken up with bloody noses twice this week. And I’m having trouble remembering simple things.”

“Simple like what?”

“My phone number? Shepherd’s last name? Our wedding date?” Jane replied, her voice full of questioning and worry. “But I remember things that happened before when I was Remi. Before I came to the FBI.”

Kurt didn’t respond as he thought about what she just said. These were all symptoms that the doctors had warned could be possible but he had hoped that she might not experience them. And certainly not all at once. It sounded like the short circuiting of his wife’s brain was accelerating.

“Maybe you should see a doctor,” he replied after a long moment. “Maybe get a CAT scan or something?”

“What good is that gonna do, Kurt? We already know what’s happening to me because of the ZIP,” she said. The worry in her voice was replaced by exasperation. “I think we just need to hurry up. I don’t know how long...” she trailed off as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She closed her eyes and tried to make the room stop spinning.

“Jane?” Kurt asked.

Jane reopened her eyes and gave Kurt a smile. “I’m okay,” she lied as she tried to ignore the way the room seemed to suddenly tilt sideways. She caught a glimpse of the conference room door opening but her mind registered the door as being part of the ceiling. She blinked hard and opened her eyes again to see Reade entering with Patterson, Tasha, and Rich following close behind.

Reade was about to take a seat at the table when he saw the frown on Kurt’s face and the confusion on Jane’s.

“Is everything okay here?” he asked as the rest of the team filed in and took up seats around the table. Patterson selected the chair furthest away from Jane and felt silly doing it. She still was uncomfortable around Jane even though they’d continued to work together over the last six weeks. Tasha sat beside her and Rich grabbed the chair next to Jane. He looked from Jane to Kurt and back to Jane.

“Yeah,” Jane replied. “Everything’s fine.”

No one said anything for a second and Reade finally sat down beside Weller. He opened up a file folder and passed a single sheet of paper to each team member, skipping over Tasha.

“That’s our travel itinerary,” he said and then looked at Tasha. “I assume you don’t need it?”

Tasha shook her head. “I’m flying to Paris tonight to meet Blake. Since Blake knows about Patterson and I, we’re going to stay in contact. When you finally find the drive, Patterson will upload the contents to a secure server. I’ll verify the upload as soon as it’s complete. When we get the drive, Keaton and I have arranged to have Shepherd brought here to help decipher some of Roman’s clues.”

Reade gave a single nod. “Okay then.” He looked to the rest of the team. “We’ve got a flight leaving New York tomorrow at 8 a.m. It’ll be 10 p.m. here when we land., that’s noon in Tokyo. I suggest everyone gets some sleep on the flight.”

***

Rich leaned against the railing on the top observation deck at Tokyo Tower and looked down at the tourists streaming about the base of the tower. They were about 800 feet off the ground with a view of the entire city but Rich wasn’t looking at the city.

“Wow, you could really hock a loogie on someone from up here, you know that?” he mused as he looked down at the people near the foot of the tower.

Reade pulled the binoculars away from his face and turned to face Rich. He frowned.

“Wanna tell me what I’m looking for here so I can guide Patterson and Jane?” he asked not bothering to hide his annoyance as he put the binoculars back to his eyes.

“The shrine,” Rich replied without looking up. “It’s that big thing about three clicks to the northeast? If you look closely you can probably see Gimpy and her sidekick Jane.”

Patterson’s voice crackled in their earpieces.

“Don't call me that, Rich,” she warned. She may have been four miles away but the threat in her voice was clear. Crutches or not, Patterson wasn’t going to let Rich’s new nickname for her slide.

“You guys there?” Reade asked as he found the shrine with his binoculars and scanned the grounds for the two agents. “I don’t see you.”

Patterson stuck a crutch in the air and waved it back and forth nearly hitting a nearby tourist. Jane grabbed the crutch and pulled it away from the constant stream of tourists.

“Got you,” Reade said as he trained the binoculars on the two agents. “Put that back down before you hit someone.”

Rich grabbed the binoculars from Reade’s hands and scanned the shrine until he found Jane and Patterson.

“Oh, hey guys,” he said and gave a short wave as Reade tried to grab the binoculars again. “You can’t see it but I just waved. And Assistant Directory Grumpy is trying to take away my eyes in the sky! Or eyes in the tower but same thing.”

“Rich,” Reade warned and Rich relinquished his grip on the scope. “Alright guys. Do you see anything out there? Anything that might tell us if Roman had been there?”

Four miles away Patterson made a slow turn and took in her surroundings. The shrine was more beautiful than the Google Earth and satellite images had depicted and she was in awe. She saw Jane making a similar slow turn. They both stopped and faced each other. When Reade had paired them together and sent them off to the shrine Patterson had been nervous, but spending this time with Jane was good. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever fully trust her again but she was no longer terrified of her.

“Do you see anything obvious?” Patterson asked. “Anything that makes you think of Roman or that might be some kind of clue that he’s been here?”

Remi shook her head. She’d woken up on the airplane and after spending a few minutes listening to the conversations taking place around her, had been able to piece together what was happening and where she was heading. It had just been extremely good luck that Reade had put her and Patterson together and sent them off to the shrine.

“No,” she said. “Nothing. Did the drive say where we were supposed to go? What we’re supposed to be looking for?”

Patterson started to respond but Rich's voice filled their earpieces.

“Turn to your right and follow the steps up and around to the back of that impressively large statue,” Rich said.

Remi and Patterson followed Rich’s instructions and soon found themselves in a completely secluded part of the shrine. They’d been guided to a hidden staircase and were alone. There were no tourists in the area. They were looking for a single gilded statue in the shape of a dragon but Remi didn’t see it. She stepped further into the space and saw Patterson examining the wall.

“Hey,” she said and turned on her crutches to face Remi. “Jane, come look at this. Does this look like a dragon to you?”

Remi studied the gold engraving on the wall and she ran her fingers over it. It definitely looked like a dragon.

“Rich?” Remi called into her headset as she continued to feel along the edges of the marking. “I think Patterson found it. It’s an engraving on the wall. It feels like it might not be flush. Patterson, do you feel that? It feels... spongy? Like it’s on a spring or something? Does that make sense?”

Remi pulled her hand away and let Patterson examine the engraving. The scientist ran her fingers over the edges of the dragon.

“Jane’s right,” Patterson said. “It almost feels like it’s on a spring. I wonder what would happen if we pushed on it.”

Patterson pressed her hand flat against the dragon and heard a slight click.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Reade said in her ear. “It could just be an old loose engraving. I don’t think the U.S. government would really like being on the hook for repairing a 4th century Japanese shrine.”

“Too late,” Remi said. “She’s already pushed down on it and something is happening.”

A loud grinding sound filled the room and Patterson rotated the dragon engraving 90 degrees to the right. There was another click and the gold dragon pushed backwards against Patterson’s hand. She gripped the edges of the etching and pulled it towards her carefully, the engraving came with her easily, revealing a small hollow space. Patterson glanced back at Jane and raised an eyebrow. Remi nodded back at her eagerly.

“Go on,” she said.

Patterson took a deep breath and reached a hand inside. She felt her hand bump against something hard and plastic, and she closed her fingers around it, pulling out a jump drive nearly identical to the one Roman handed Jane in South Africa.

“Guys?” Patterson called into her headset. “I think we’ve got it.”

***

Reade let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Part of him thought that they would wind up leaving Tokyo without the drive. Maybe Roman had never left a drive behind. But hearing that Patterson had it in her hand sent a wave of relief over him. The trip hadn’t been for nothing. He pulled the binoculars away from his eyes and turned to face Rich who was waiting for a high five. Reade grudgingly gave him one.

“Man, talk about the A Team!” Rich grinned as he enthusiastically slapped Reade’s hand.

Reade’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket and he was grateful for the distraction. Rich had grown a lot since they first met him but he still wasn't Reade’s favorite team member. He pulled his phone out and checked the display. Zapata.

While the rest of the team had flown to Japan, Tasha had flown to France to meet up with Blake Crawford. Blake was formulating her plans to go after the drives herself and Tasha was convinced that she could delay Blake’s search by at least one day, giving the team a chance to get to Tokyo, retrieve the drive, and return to New York. Reade was surprised to see Zapata on his caller ID. This was the first time she’d called him in months.

“Tasha? Everything okay?”

“Hey Patterson, it’s me,” Tasha said. Her voice was quiet and Reade thought she might be whispering. The background noise changed slightly as she left one location for another. “I just wanted to call and check in with you.”

“I think you dialed the wrong number, Tash —”

“I forgot to tell you that some cleaners are coming to the apartment,” Tasha continued, cutting Reade off. “It’s a crew of about four or five. They’re gonna sweep and take out the trash and probably mess around near your computers so you might want to stash anything you don’t want them getting into. Know what I’m saying?”

“I think so?”

“Good,” Tasha replied. “I was surprised they were coming so quickly but they might be there any minute. They’ll be bringing all their own tools and supplies. You might wanna get out of there and give them some space.”

“Got it,” Reade replied. “Thanks for the heads up.”

They disconnected the call and Reade snatched the binoculars away from Rich. He trained them on the shrine and spotted Patterson and Jane. They were walking casually, Jane just a step behind Patterson as she used her crutches to maneuver through the crowds.

“Hey Patterson, Jane, you might wanna hurry out of there,” Reade said into his headset. He got no response and tried again. It sounded like a dead line, and neither Jane nor Patterson reacted through the lenses of his binoculars. “Patterson? Jane?”

Reade fumbled with his comms unit and checked the battery pack. It was still on and the battery was full strength. Rich checked his own unit before checking his cell phone for a signal. No service displayed in the top corner of the screen. Reade checked his phone and saw the same message.

“Someone’s got a jammer,” Reade said. “Tasha said Blake already has a team after the drive. They must be here already.”

He trained the binoculars back towards the shrine and found Patterson and Jane. They were chatting as they made their way through the crowd. Reade spotted four men in dark clothes walking rapidly behind them. They were closing the distance quickly.

“Jane!” Reade yelled futilely into the comms. He turned to Rich. “We’ve gotta get there.”

***

Patterson crutched her way through the crowd. She hated the crutches almost as much as she hated the wheelchair but at least people moved out of the way of the chair. The crutches seemed invisible to people and it was a struggle to find enough space to crutch along safely. She made her way to one of the rails surrounding the shrine and leaned her crutches against the railing.

“Hey Reade. I’m gonna start the upload to Zapata right now,” Patterson said into her comms as she retrieved her phone and a small USB OTG dongle from her pocket. She started to connect the device and realized Reade hadn’t responded. “Reade?” She looked at Jane. “Can you try your comms? Reade’s not answering.”

Remi checked her comms pack and saw the green light was illuminated. The unit was working.

“Reade? Rich?” She waited for their response. When none came, she shook her head and looked back at Patterson who had already connected the OTG, jump drive, and her phone. She was attempting to navigate to the secure drop she’d set up for the drive’s contents. “Comms are down.”

“I have no signal,” Patterson said suddenly, looking up at Jane with concern creasing her brow. “At all. Check your phone?”

Remi fished her phone out of her pocket. The words “No Service” appeared on the screen.

“No service,” she said, showing the screen to Patterson.

“It’s like someone's running a jammer. We’ve got to get out of here so I can find a signal,” Patterson mused. She turned her attention away from her phone and back to Jane in time to see a group of men rapidly approaching. One was reaching inside his coat as if grabbing for a gun. “Jane! Gun!”

Remi spun around and reached for her own gun, remembering much too late that they hadn’t traveled with their service pistols. She reacted quickly, knocking the gun out of the man’s hand. It skittered to the concrete sidewalk and she grabbed for it, levelling the barrel at their attackers.

“Patterson, go! Now!” she called as she dodged a fist that came dangerously close to her face. “Go!”

Patterson shoved her phone back into her pocket, OTG dongle and jump drive still attached, and grabbed for her crutches. She edged towards the pathway leading to the street as Jane fought off the four men. One of the attackers noticed Patterson suddenly and forgot Jane. He swung a hard kick at Jane’s calf, bringing her to one knee, and then lunged at Patterson.

“Burundo! Kanojo wa unten shite iru!” he yelled to the other men, pointing towards Patterson.

_(The blonde! She has the drive.)_

Remi swept her leg out and tripped the man as he headed towards Patterson. She got back to her feet and threw a series of punches and kicks at the group.

“Anata ga doraibu o nozomunara, anata wa watashi o nozumu,” Remi growled as she threw one of the men on the ground. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder. “Go, Patterson. Find Reade and Rich. I’ll take care of this. Go!”

_(If you want the drive, then you want me.)_

Patterson hesitated and watched for a brief moment as Jane threw punch after punch at the men. She didn't want to leave her behind but she knew there wasn't anything she could do. If she wasn't on crutches or maybe if she had her weapon she might have been of more help. But she was and she didn't so she checked her pocket for her phone and the drive and began crutching her way from the shrine and towards the street. Whoever their attackers were, they were most likely after the drive. She wondered if they were working for Blake and then wondered again if Tasha knew. She had to believe that Tasha didn’t know. She wouldn’t have put them all in danger like this. Tasha wouldn’t have put her in danger. Patterson was certain of that.

She crutched her way quickly along the uneven path leading the street and caught one of the rubber tips on a loose stone. Patterson lost her balance and felt herself start to tumble onto the concrete. A strong hand grabbed her by her arm and hauled her up again, securing the crutch back under her arm.

“Do you have the drive still?” Reade asked as he helped stabilize Patterson again.

She checked her pocket and nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

Reade nodded and looked past Patterson to Rich. “Get her out of here. I’ll help Jane.”

He didn’t wait for Rich to respond and jogged off towards Jane. The men had surrounded her and she was systematically throwing punches and kicks at them one at a time. With their backs to him, Reade was able to take one of them by surprise, hitting him hard in the back of the neck and knocking him unconscious. A second attacker noticed Reade then and turned his attention from Jane to Reade just as Jane took advantage of the opening and knocked him onto his back with a single sweep of her leg. Reade noticed a small black plastic box fall out of the man’s pocket and he kicked it away from the man’s reach as Jane delivered a knock-out blow to the downed assailant.

“Jammer!” Remi yelled when she spotted the box. “I’ve got these guys! Shut it down!”

Reade scrambled over to the plastic box. He wasted no time and stomped down hard on it. He adjusted his comms unit.

“Rich, Patterson? Do you guys read me?” He asked as he sidestepped to his right. Jane had thrown one of two remaining assailants and he was hurtling out of control passed Reade.

“Got you,” Rich’s reply came in his earpiece.

“The jammer is down. Upload the drive to Zapata now.”

***

Tasha’s phone rang and she fished it out of her pocket as she watched Blake pace around her father’s office. The blonde was desperately trying to make the same kind of tough, risky moves that Hank may have made but Tasha saw that she was timid and unsure of herself. This was a weakness she knew she could exploit. She glanced at her caller ID and saw her girlfriend’s name and pressed the accept button.

“Hola cariño,” Tasha said, her voice adopting a musical quality that she really only ever used when talking to Patterson. “Everything okay? Did the cleaners come?”

Tasha was silent while she listened to Patterson relay the events that transpired at the shrine. She bit her lip and glanced back up towards where Blake had stopped pacing. She was now sitting at her father’s desk pouring over some document. Tasha turned her back and lowered her voice.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you that earlier,” Tasha said. “I made reservations at that place we like and got the confirmation a little while ago. We’re all set so we can go celebrate as soon as I come home.”

Blake’s head was down at the desk as she looked over a stack of paperwork Tasha had given her earlier. With her father’s death, Blake wasn’t quite in charge of HCI Global; there was still a board of directors to contend with. The paperwork Tasha gave her was complete workups on each board member with instructions on how to sway them to her side and earn their allegiance. She wasn’t very interested in any of it; Blake was too busy trying to listen to Tasha’s conversation. Her phone vibrated on the desk blotter and Blake grabbed for it absently.

**The FBI has the drive. They’ve escaped.**

Blake cleared the message from her phone and looked back up at Tasha. She watched her intently as the brunette paced slightly while on her call. This was the second time Tasha had spoken with Patterson over the last hour. In all the months that Tasha had been working for HCI, this was the most she’d ever heard her speak to Patterson on the phone. She wondered if the FBI’s escape and Tasha’s sudden phone calls were related.

_What side is Tasha on_ , Blake wondered as she eyed Tasha. _Whose team is she playing for?_


	18. Crossed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been saying for the last few weeks that this would end at Chapter 20. And then I started sketching 18, 19, and 20 and realized that there's more story here than what would end at 20. I hope i haven't bored you all to tears yet, but it looks like this could go as far as chapter 25. Or further. Sometimes the words are hard, and sometimes they're easy. Right now? They're easy.

Kira Evans dropped a thick file folder on Blake Crawford’s desk. It hit the blotter with a dull thud and Blake looked up from the report she’d been reading.

“This should settle whatever debt you think I have with you and HCI Global,” Kira said sourly. “I worked for Hank, not you, and I will not do whatever it is you are attempting to do here. I don’t know what you think you’re going to find or what you’re hoping to find, but this will be the last time I set foot in this office.”

The attorney turned sharply on her heel and headed towards the door.

“Kira,” Blake called after her. She picked up the folder, waved it slightly, and gave the attorney a small smile. “Thank you. My father would appreciate you helping me like this.”

Kira started to the door and turned back again. She pointed her finger at Blake and frowned at her.

“Your father was many things. A great businessman, a good father, a ruthless, _brutal_ shark. Many, many things. But he was not whatever you are turning into,” Kira paused and seemed to consider her next words carefully. “I think he’d be ashamed of you. And maybe a little bit afraid. Goodbye Blake.”

Blake stared wordlessly after the lawyer as she left the office. A mixture of disappointment and anger flooded through her. She couldn’t believe that Kira Evans, her father’s longtime legal counsel had turned her back on her. The attorney hadn’t come out and said it, but she may as well have just thrown in with the FBI. Blake sat heavily in her father’s old chair and tapped the end of a pen in annoyance on the folder Kira had left behind. She opened it and began reading through the intelligence the attorney had gathered.

When her team on the ground in Tokyo called with the news that the FBI had secured the drive and was on its way out of the country, Blake had grown suspicious. At first, she’d tried to tell herself that she was simply paranoid; that the person she had grown to trust the most hadn’t become a turncoat. And then she considered the entire picture, calling on her father’s attorney to help fill in some of the blanks that were rapidly appearing and getting the final report from her team in Tokyo.

Tokyo had not gone at all according to her plan. Tasha had assured Blake that getting to the drive would be easy and she could send in a small team to locate it and return it to Blake’s Parisian office. She’d also urged Blake to wait another day before sending in her team. Blake wondered now if Tasha’s insistence on waiting was to give the FBI a chance to get away without ever encountering her team. At the time, it hadn’t seen that strange. Tasha was former FBI and CIA and she wanted to approach the drive’s location cautiously and only after it had been properly scouted. Now, however, Tasha’s insistence on waiting gave Blake pause. She considered the report from the Tokyo team. Jane had been protecting Patterson and the scientist was seen connecting something to her cell phone.

 _Patterson is Tasha’s girlfriend_ , Blake’s mind reminded her. _She was probably contacting Tasha._

The file Kira Evans had provided detailed Natasha Zapata’s every movement since the time she appeared at HCI Global and each and every trip she made back to New York City. The trust and complete faith Blake had put in Tasha had begun to erode. In that instant Blake knew. Tasha was playing both sides. Her loyalty wasn’t to HCI Global or to Blake. Tasha Zapata was loyal to her girlfriend and her former coworkers at the FBI. Tasha had become Blake’s problem. And Blake needed to get rid of that problem while simultaneously moving closer to her own end goals.

_Tasha has to go._

***

Remi followed Weller and Reade into the lab. Patterson had called for the team once she’d plugged the new drive into her computers and discovered that it, like the original drive, was protected by some kind of password. Unlike the original, however, this one wasn’t a simple pattern that needed to be input. This drive was protected by a cipher. It was complex and though Patterson’s computers were working at full capacity to crack the code, they hadn’t been able to break it.

“Jane!” Patterson said, breaking away from the conversation she’d been having with Rich. “I’m glad you’re here. We’ve been working on cracking the cipher that’s protecting the Tokyo drive and so far, we can’t. Do you remember any special books or stories that Roman may have used as a key? Maybe something from your childhood?”

Remi considered Patterson’s request for a long moment. Before she’d come to the FBI in the duffle bag with her memory wiped, the group the FBI referred to as Sandstorm frequently used anonymous message boards, obscure and hard-to-find out-of-print books, and an odd mix of Morse code and mancala moves to communicate in secret. One glance at the code on Patterson’s computer screens told Remi all she needed to know. There was a South African folktale Shepherd had told Remi and Roman on numerous occasions. It was the base for many of the codes the group would use later as they formulated their plan to overthrow the United States government. If she gave up the cipher, Patterson would be able to unlock the drive and whatever information Roman had been able to gather about the ZIP poisoning would be accessible. But she may also tip the scales of knowledge. Not only might Patterson grow suspicious that Jane was no more, but the cipher was still active for other parts of Phase 1 and Phase 2.

“Tell them,” Roman insisted from where he stood just behind her. He spoke quietly over her right shoulder. Remi didn’t dare turn around. She knew Roman wasn’t really there. She’d seen him in Tokyo and then, upon arriving back home, he’d shown up in the apartment she shared with Weller. Roman was dead but that didn’t stop him from appearing in her hallucinations. “I didn’t get a chance to cure my ZIP poisoning but you still need that information. It could help save your life. Give Patterson the cipher.”

A flicker of recognition must have flashed across her face because Remi found Patterson watching her intently.

“Do you remember something?”

Remi nodded slowly as if the memory might be fuzzy.

“There was a story that Shepherd told us, Roman and I, as kids,” she began. “She eventually turned it into a game, like everything else she did. This looks familiar.”

“What’s the story?” Weller prodded.

“The story isn’t important,” Remi replied. “But it’s the story of the Elephant and the Tortoise. The tortoise has to protect the only watering hole from other animals who want to drink the water but the water belongs to the elephant. Every time a lion or hyena or zebra comes to the watering hold, the tortoise refuses to let them drink the water, saying ‘the water belongs to Elephant.’ That’s the key. ‘The water belongs to Elephant.”

Patterson was already at work on her computer, dropping all the spaces between words and removing the repeating letters until she was left with eight letters. She quickly converted the letters to numbers and dropped repeating digits from the sequence. She spoke the remaining numbers aloud as she entered them into the computer.

“Three, 8, 2, 5, 7, 9, and 6.”

The screen changed to display a directory of files.

“The Elephant and the Tortoise,” Patterson smiled proudly. “That’s great, Jane.”

“Yeah, great Jane,” the Roman hallucination mocked. “Come on, sis. Let’s get out of here.”

Tasha walked briskly into the room, tucking her phone into her pocket. She glanced at the file directory displayed on the monitors and then looked at the group of assembled agents.

“I just got off the phone with Keaton,” she said, looking sharply at Reade. “Shepherd is in a CIA transport on her way from the interrogation site. She should be here tomorrow morning.”

Remi startled. She knew Zapata was working to bring Shepherd into the NYO to help decrypt some of the information Roman left behind but she doubted that the CIA would let a valuable and dangerous asset like Shepherd out of whatever hole they were keeping her in.

“Shepherd is coming here?” she asked, looking from Zapata to Reade to Weller. “Tomorrow?”

Reade cleared his throat. “Yeah. You don’t have to see her if you don’t want to,” he said. “We can try to get whatever information she might have without you.”

Remi nodded.

“Yeah, maybe that’s best,” she lied. “I don’t know if I’m ready to see her again.” She brought a hand to her temple and started to rub at an imaginary headache. “I’m gonna go lie down somewhere. My head is pounding.”

Weller put a hand on her arm and stopped her.

“Are you okay? Do you need me to come with you?”

Remi stepped away from him and put on a weak smile. “No. I need to be alone right now.”

***

Roman lead Remi through the corridors of the NYO until they were the only ones around. An exit sign loomed ahead and beyond that, the brightness of the midday filtered through a glass panel. He looked up and down the deserted hallway and then nodded at a door.

“Open it,” he said.

“What?” Remi asked as she looked around.

“Open. It,” Roman repeated.

“It’s probably locked,” Remi protested.

Roman shook his head and pointed at the security badge clipped to Remi’s jacket. “It’s probably not, but if it is, I bet that badge gets you in there.”

Remi sighed and put her hand on the door handle. It turned easily and she looked back at Roman in surprise.

“Go in,” he instructed, his frustration evident.

Remi stepped in and turned back to speak to Roman but he wasn’t there. She turned around to examine the room and found Roman standing beside a large heating vent.

“What are we doing here?” Remi asked.

Roman crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

“Come on, sis,” he said. “How should I know? I’m dead. I’m not really here. This is just in your brain. Your short-circuiting, malfunctioning, failing brain.”

Remi walked slowly around the room. Roman – the hallucination – was right. Her brain had led her here. There had to be a reason. She stopped in front of the vent Roman was leaning next to and inspected the edges.

“There’s a tunnel here, isn’t there?”

Roman sighed loudly.

“Hallucination,” he said, enunciating each syllable. “Look for yourself.”

Remi inspected the vent carefully. Scratches marred the top of each screw and it looked like the vent had been removed recently. She looked around the room and spotted a Phillips head screwdriver on a nearby shelf. She quickly unscrewed the vent and pulled it away revealing a large heating shaft.

“Where does it go?” she asked and received another exasperated sigh from Roman.

“Find out,” Roman said.

Remi climbed inside the vent and began following it. It came to a three-way intersection and she paused while she tried get her bearings.

“Does this go where I think it goes?” she asked suddenly, making an immediate decision and following the vent to the right. She moved quickly and silently through the vent shaft until she came to a wall. Remi peered through the vent in front of her and found herself staring into the main interrogation room. Her breath caught in her throat.

_This is how we get Shepherd out._


	19. Jailbreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 20 should be up very, very soon. I've already written about 90% of it. 
> 
> I'm sorry this is so dialogue heavy. I really hate that but... it is what it is.

Keaton stepped out of the interrogation room and closed the door behind him. The CIA transport had arrived and Shepherd Briggs had been marched through a back entrance of the NYO. She was handcuffed to the table awaiting a member of the task force. Keaton spotted Reade on his way into his office and hurried after him.

“Assistant Director Reade,” he called as he followed him inside the office. “Shepherd is here.”

“She’s here?” Reade repeated, looking around for the prisoner.

“Not here, here,” Keaton replied. “She’s in interrogation. She’s been a real pain in the ass since we picked her up from holding —”

“The black site,” Reade interrupted.

“What?”

“You’ve got her in a black site,” Reade said. “Don’t pretend like the CIA doesn’t engage in torture, Jake. We both know what goes on.”

Keaton put a hand up as if warding away bad energy. “Enhanced interrogation techniques,” he corrected.

“Fine.”

Keaton shook his head and started back out of Reade’s office, gesturing for him to follow him.

“She’s waiting for someone,” he explained. “The longer you make her wait, the less cooperative she’s going to be. Not that she was all that cooperative to begin with.”

***

Reade left the interrogation room and turned towards the lab. Patterson had given him a rundown of the type of information they were hoping to get from Shepherd but he’d barely been able to greet her when she’d insisted on speaking to her daughter or no one at all. Reade had tried to go another way, explaining about Jane’s ZIP poisoning, but she’d clammed up completely and refused to speak. He had no threats to hand out. Shepherd had already seen some of the worst treatment the U.S. government could dish out, there was nothing he could use as leverage. Except for Jane.

Jane was standing around the bank of computers with Patterson, Tasha, Weller, and Rich when he entered the lab. The contents of the Tokyo drive were open on the monitors and the team was clearly trying to make sense of Roman’s riddles.

“Did Shepherd say anything?” Patterson asked optimistically, turning away from the computers. Her crutches were leaning against the counter but she’d been stubbornly refusing to use them. They slowed her down, she complained.

Reade shook his head. “No. She won’t talk to anyone,” he looked at Jane, “except Jane.”

Remi’s eyes went wide. She played it as nerves but this is exactly what she’d hoped for. Shepherd would want to speak to her and that would give her the window she was looking for. She shook her head and looked from Reade to Weller.

“No,” she said. “I can’t go through that again. I can’t see her.”

Kurt put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I know you don’t want to see her but she might be the only one who can help us figure out what Roman was thinking.”

“Yeah,” Patterson chimed in. “She might be able to point us in the right direction to crack some of these riddles.”

Remi shook her head again, this time turning to look at Patterson.

“And what makes you think she’s just going to cooperate?”

“You’re her daughter, Jane,” Tasha said. “And I know you don’t want to think about it, but this ZIP poisoning could kill you. If she doesn’t want you to die, she’ll help.”

“The threat of death _is_ pretty persuasive,” Rich agreed.

Remi licked her lips and looked down at the floor before turning to look back to Weller.

“Kurt,” she began quietly. “I don’t know if I can...”

“You can,” Kurt said quietly.

Remi was quiet for a moment. She stretched her silence out as long as she could before looking back at Reade.

“Ok,” she said finally. “I can do it.”

***

Remi sat down at the table opposite Shepherd. She studied her mother’s appearance. It wasn’t the same woman she remembered. Shepherd had aged, her hair was unkempt, and it looked like she hadn’t slept in days. There was the hint of a bruise peeking out from the collar of her shirt. Remi didn’t know how to start the conversation. She didn’t want to seem over eager but she needed to let Shepherd know that she had a plan and it didn’t involve her being handcuffed for much longer.

“You wanted to see me,” Remi said finally. “You wouldn’t talk to anyone but me?”

Shepherd nodded slightly. There was something a little different about Jane.

“I never thought I’d see my Remi again,” Shepherd said softly, holding her eyes. “They tell me you are losing your memory. That you could die from that drug we used to erase your memory?”

It was Remi’s turn to nod. She gave a small grin that she hoped the cameras mounted in the corner of the room couldn’t catch.

“That’s right,” she said. “The ZIP is killing me.”

“Remi, Remi, Remi,” Shepherd sighed. She watched for a reaction from Jane. In the past, simply calling Jane Remi had provoked a response. So far, Jane wasn't taking the bait. “I’m sorry that’s happening for you. I wanted so much more for you and Roman.”

“Roman is dead,” Remi said flatly. “Someone killed him.”

Shepherd shook her head from side to side. “No, that’s not possible.”

“It is. He’s dead,” Remi repeated.

Neither woman spoke for a long moment as Shepherd stared down at the table. Much of the fight and spirit had been lost in her and Remi wondered if it was even worth trying to free her.

“Roman was weak.” Shepherd said finally as she sat up straighter. “He was never strong like my Remi. It was really only a matter of time. What do you need me for?”

Remi took a breath and quickly explained to Shepherd about the drives Roman had left behind and the riddles that filled them.

“I remember things,” Remi admitted. “Bits and pieces, sometimes entire weeks and months but I can’t seem to solve all of Roman’s puzzles.”

“You remember _things_?” Shepherd repeated. “Like what? What kind of _things_?”

“Games we played, stories you told us,” Remi said. She lowered her voice and looked deliberately into Shepherd‘s eyes. “Plans we made.”

Shepherd leaned back in her chair, her hands still chained in front of her. She let out a slow breath.

“You’ve come home to me?” Shepherd asked, her eyes trained on the ceiling. “I always knew you’d find your way home again.”

Remi didn’t respond immediately. She got to her feet and walked around the table to stand next to Shepherd. She bent at the waist and spoke quietly to her.

“Everyone always finds a way out,” Remi said.

She turned away from Shepherd then and headed back to the door. She spoke louder now.

“If you can’t help us then you can stay here,” she said. “And when I die, it’ll be on you.”

Remi walked through the doors back into the hallways and found Kurt waiting for her. She blinked hard and forced her eyes to water.

“Are you okay?” Weller asked.

Remi shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said as she turned to go down the corridor. “I have a headache, though. I need to lie down.”

Weller nodded and looked to Reade. “We need to figure out how to make Shepherd talk. She might be our only hope of breaking through Roman’s games.”

Reade glanced at his watch. It had only been an hour or so since Shepherd had arrived. Keaton should still be in the building.

“I’ll find Keaton and see if we can put some pressure on her,” he said.

Weller started to follow Jane down the hallway but she turned and put a hand on his chest.

“No,” she said. “I just need to be alone somewhere dark. Why don’t you go with Reade and see what Keaton can do?”

Remi didn’t wait for Weller’s response. She turned and started down the hallway past the first turn and waited to see if she’d been followed. When she was certain she was alone, Remi ducked into a utility closet and pulled the door closed behind her. She pulled a pocketknife from her jacket and set to work following cables that ran to a junction box mounted near the ceiling.

***

CAMERA FEED LOST flashed in red across Patterson’s computer interrupting the puzzle she was working on. She flipped her display over to the NYO’s closed-circuit camera monitors and immediately spotted the problem. The camera feed to Interrogation Room 1 was offline. She clicked on it and entered in a string of commands in an effort to bring the camera back online.

CAMERA FEED LOST. COMMAND FAILURE.

“Oh come on!” Patterson sighed as she entered the commands again.

CAMERA FEED LOST. COMMAND FAILURE.

“What the hell?” Patterson asked the empty room as she got up from her chair. She considered the crutches that were leaning against her desk and decided against them. They made her slow moving and she didn’t have the time or patience to deal with them right now. Besides, she was moving just fine without them.

Patterson walked down the hallway to the interrogation room. She hesitated before going in – this is where Shepherd was being held. That use, however, made it all the more important that she make sure the cameras were back online as quickly as possible. She slid the door open and stepped inside.

A metal chair crashed down across her face and Patterson fell to the floor.

***

“Patterson?” Tasha asked as she walked into the lab. “Hey I made reservations for tonight at that Mexican place you like. We can have burritos or whatever they make fancier than tacos. Will you be ready to go by 7?” Tasha looked around and realized she was talking to herself. “Patterson?”

She spotted the alert on the scientist’s computer. The interrogation room camera was offline. Then she saw the crutches left beside the desk. Tasha sighed and grabbed for the aluminum supports.

“Dammit, Patterson,” she said. “These aren’t just a suggestion!”

Tasha hurried off in the direction of Interrogation Room 1 with Patterson’s crutches, grumbling as she went. They really needed to have a conversation about Patterson’s unwillingness to follow doctor’s orders. Just because she felt better didn’t mean she _was_ better.

As she approached the door to the interrogation room, she noticed that it was open. She furrowed her brow in concern and jogged the rest of the distance. Patterson was laying on her back on the floor, and the room was empty. Tasha let the crutches fall from her hand and went to Patterson.

“Help!” she yelled. “Agent down!”

Reade appeared in the doorway behind them and saw Patterson unconscious on the floor.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I don’t know but Shepherd is gone,” Tasha replied. “Go! I’ve got Patterson.”


	20. Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where I'm going next exactly. I have a rough outline but nothing finite. I need some time.
> 
> In the meantime, Zapatterson fans, this is for you.

Patterson was impatient. She was laying in yet another hospital bed waiting for the results to yet another test while yet another doctor was nowhere in sight. If she saw one more doctor this year, it would be one too many. This was getting ridiculous. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the pillow.  

Tasha burst into the infirmary and scanned the room quickly. Patterson was the only patient and she looked unconscious. After she’d found Patterson on the floor of the interrogation room, she’d called for medical help and the scientist was brought to the NYO’s infirmary. Tasha had argued that Patterson should be taken to the hospital but the on-call doctor had overruled her and so now, here was Patterson an inch from death sitting in the infirmary of the New York’s FBI field office.  

She rushed to Patterson’s bedside and grabbed her hand, her own tears near to spilling over.  

“Oh my god, Patterson,” she whispered before lapsing into Spanish. “Te quiero mucho. Usted no me puede dejar.” 

Patterson opened her eyes and found Tasha leaning over her with her eyes closed and head down. 

“Tash, I’m okay,” she said quietly, squeezing Tasha’s hand. “I don’t know what you’re saying but I’m okay, I swear it.” 

Tasha’s eyes flew open and she looked down at Patterson who was grinning at her slightly.  

“You’re okay?” 

Patterson raised a hand to her jaw where a purplish bruise had already started to form.  

“Yeah, I think so, bitchin’ bruise aside,” she said. “I’m waiting on the results of a CT scan —  _again_ — but the doctors think I’m okay.”  

Tasha sighed and released Patterson’s hand. She grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it next to Patterson’s bed.  

“I hate this,” she said. “I can’t stand seeing you in the hospital.” 

“I’m not in the hospital,” Patterson protested. “Just the infirmary.” 

Tasha shook her head. “Whatever. I still hate it.” 

Tasha’s phone vibrated in her pocket and she fished it out, glancing at the caller ID. Keaton. She looked back to Patterson.  

“I have to take this,” she said. 

Patterson waved a hand at her. “Go!” she said. “I’m fine. I swear. I’ll see you at home in like an hour.” 

*** 

Patterson’s jaw ached from where Shepherd had hit her with the chair. The bruise would deepen but the doctor promised that there was nothing else to it. Just bruising. She was released from the infirmary but Reade was waiting for her with her jacket, crutches, and purse. She was going home. No excuses.  

The living room light was still off when Patterson arrived home and she let out a small sigh of disappointment. She’d told Tasha she’d see her at home in about an hour. It was about an hour later and it looked like Tasha wasn’t home. She flipped the light on and stopped in mid-stride on her way to the couch. The room was full of cut sunflowers. She guessed there were hundreds of them.  

“Tash?” she called out as she leaned the crutches against the wall. 

Tasha walked out of the bedroom. She’d changed out of the suit she’d worn at the office and was dressed in a short, form-fitting black dress. She gave Patterson a smile. 

“Hey,” she said. “Reade told me you’re okay?” 

Patterson nodded and cleared her throat. Tasha looked stunning. 

“What’s going on, Tash? What’s with all the sunflowers?” Patterson asked, her eyebrow arching as she glanced around the room. She couldn’t hide the hungry look on her face as she appraised her girlfriend in the tight dress. “Are you heading undercover?” 

Tasha shook her head. “No. Not undercover.” She gestured towards the couch. It was just about the only surface in the whole room that wasn’t covered in flowers. “Sit down for a minute?” 

Patterson gave Tasha a wary look and hesitated. She wasn’t sure what was happening. Tasha gave her a reassuring smile and gestured to the couch again. “Please? Just for a minute.”  

The blonde cautiously returned Tasha’s smile and sat on the couch. She waited for Tasha to sit down as well but she didn’t. Instead Tasha put her hands behind her back and looked down at the floor for moment. Patterson’s mind started racing. Tasha was about to break up with her. Everything that was happening with Jane and her ZIP poisoning, Tasha’s assignment to Blake Crawford, and Patterson’s all-too-frequent hospital visits had doomed them. Patterson tried to steel herself for whatever Tasha was about to tell her, and she kept telling herself not to cry. There would be plenty of time for tears after Tasha ripped off the band aid and told her whatever she was about to, but for now Patterson needed to put up a tough, stoic front.  

Tasha finally looked up from the floor and gave Patterson a small smile.  

“How’s your jaw?” 

“It’s okay,” Patterson replied, her hand automatically going to the spot where the chair had connected with her face. “It’s a little sore but I’ll be okay.” 

Tasha nodded and looked back at the floor. “Good. I’m glad. That you’ll be okay not that you’re sore.” She silently cursed herself out for babbling before taking a deep breath. She looked back up. This was harder than she thought it would be. “When I saw you in the infirmary today, I thought I was going to die.  My heart actually hurt. I just got you back and then you were in the hospital and then there was all the recovery and then today. The thought of losing you breaks my heart. And I don’t know if I’m strong enough to bear that sort of thing.” 

Patterson started to get up to go to Tasha but the brunette waved her off.  

“Tash, I’m okay,” Patterson said as she sat back down. “You really don’t need to worry about me. I’m not going anywhere. And if you’re not strong enough, we can be strong enough together. I don’t want you to worry.” 

“I know,” Tasha replied and took another deep breath. “I’m not strong enough to handle the thought of losing you or seeing you hurt but,” she paused again and took another deep breath. “I’m stronger with you. And I want to be with you.” 

“I want to be with you, too.” 

Tasha smiled again. She walked quickly to a side table that had been completely covered with flowers. After she’d left the NYO, she’d gone to nearly every flower shop between the office and their apartment. She’d bought twelve dozen sunflowers in all.  

“I hoped you’d say that,” Tasha admitted, grabbing something off the table and going to the couch. She sat down next to Patterson. She looked down at her own clasped hands, suddenly feeling very uncertain of herself.  

“What’s wrong?” Patterson asked sensing Tasha’s sudden nervousness.  

Tasha shook her head. “Nothing is wrong,” she said and looked back up into Patterson’s amazingly blue eyes. “I’m just really nervous all of a sudden.” 

Patterson cocked her head and studied Tasha for a moment but the brunette didn’t give her a chance to respond. Tasha bit her lip and finally blew out a long slow breath. The easiest way to do hard things is simply to do them. She held Patterson’s eyes and saw the worry that had set into them. She made her decision then and released the death grip she had on the box in her hand. Tasha opened her hands and let Patterson see what she was holding.  

“This was my grandmother’s,” Tasha said quickly. “She gave it to me a few years ago and told me I should save it for someone special. That whoever I gave it to should be my entire world. And I should only give it that person when I knew that my world would shatter without them in it.” She flipped the box open and showed her girlfriend the glittering diamond ring inside. “You’re my world. My whole world.  My heart, my every last thing. You’re the reason I get up in the morning and the reason I fly thousands of miles just to come home. Just to see your smile. To look into your amazing eyes. When I think about not being with you, it actually hurts. When I think about a future without you, it isn’t a future at all. And I don’t want that. I want you. I want you in my tomorrow and in my next year and in my 20 years from now. Fifty years from now. I want you forever.”  

Tasha paused for a second and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She had promised herself that no matter what she said or how sincerely she might say it that she wouldn’t cry. But she was.  

Patterson jumped to her feet.  

“No!” she cried. “Stop. No.  Don’t do what you’re about to do. Don’t you dare!” 

“Patterson?” Tasha was stunned. It wasn’t really a secret what she was trying to do but she didn’t expect her girlfriend to run out of the room. But Patterson was on the move. She ran to the bedroom and disappeared inside. “Patterson? Come back. Please.” 

There was no response from the bedroom and Tasha was about to follow her when Patterson appeared again. She held a box in her own hand and held it out so Tasha could see.  

“I was waiting to ask you when we found all the drives and Jane wasn’t dying and everything was back to normal,” Patterson explained. “But you’re here with a ring and you don’t get to ask me! I had this planned... sort of.” 

“What are you saying?” Tasha asked as she stood up. “Are you asking...” 

“What were you saying?” Patterson asked suddenly very unsure of herself. “I thought...” 

Tasha walked rapidly around the coffee table until she was standing inches away from Patterson. She held out the ring again. “I want you to have this,” she said slowly, “because I want to be with you forever.” 

“That’s what this is for,” Patterson replied, as she held up her own ring. “I don’t want to... I want that, too.” 

Tasha wiped her eyes again. This was absolutely not how she thought this was going to go. She’d been fully prepared for Patterson to say no.  

“So are you gonna ask me, or what?” Patterson asked when Tasha said nothing.  

Tasha nodded rapidly. “I’m not getting down on one knee,” she warned, earning a laugh from Patterson. “Will you be with me forever? I want to be with you forever. I want to be your wife and I want you to be mine. Will you marry me?” 

Patterson nodded and accepted the ring as Tasha slid it onto her finger. Her grin stretched from ear to ear as she stared at the ring on her finger for a minute. She suddenly snapped out of it and remembered the ring box she was holding in her other hand. She quickly pulled the ring out and offered it to Tasha.   

“Natasha Zapata, will you be  _my_ wife? Will you marry me?” she asked.  

Tasha responded by kissing Patterson before allowing the blonde to slide the ring onto her own finger. They both grinned down at their respective ring fingers for a long moment. Tasha looked up and watched Patterson chew her lip. 

“What?” Tasha asked.  

Patterson shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “I was just thinking.” 

“About what?” 

“We’re gonna get married,” Patterson said with a dopey smile. It fell then. She forced a laugh. “We have to tell everyone. You have to tell Reade.”


	21. Starting Anew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to post at least one more chapter in the next few days but I'll be taking the month of November off to do NaNoWriMo. I haven't participated in years but I think I'll try writing a novel in 30 days which most likely means I won't have time to work on fics. Sorry, gang.

Tasha woke up with Patterson’s legs intertwined with her own and a hand resting on her bare hip. She felt a band of cool metal on the skin there and smiled. Patterson had said yes.

She pulled her hand out from under the blankets and admired the ring on her own finger, enjoying the way the morning light reflected off the diamond. The ring Patterson had selected was gorgeous and perfectly her style. She’d planned a proposal as well but Tasha’s impromptu ask had forced a change in plans. Tasha felt giddy. She was going to marry her very best friend, and her best friend had wanted to marry her as well. She stifled a bout of nervous laughter and felt Patterson stir beside her.

Tasha watched as the blonde began to wake up, and she noticed how purple the bruise on her jaw had turned overnight. And swollen. The ugly injury marred her girlfriend’s otherwise perfect face.

_Not girlfriend_ , Tasha reminded herself. _Fiancée._

“Hey,” Patterson’s sleep-filled voice came, jostling Tasha out of her happy thoughts.

“Good morning,” Tasha replied before leaning in and kissing Patterson. She placed her hand lightly on the bruise and ran her thumb over it carefully. “Does that hurt? It looks awful.”

Patterson nodded as she replaced Tasha’s hand with her own and continued to rub at the bruise.

“It probably feels worse than it looks,” she said.

Tasha hmmed and grabbed for her phone on the side table. She launched the camera app and turned it to selfie mode. She held the screen in front of Patterson’s face and watched as Patterson examined the bruising.

“Ok, maybe it looks worse than it feels,” Patterson admitted after a minute. “It hurts like hell, but it looks like I went 10 rounds with Muhammad Ali!”

“Ten rounds, P? You think you’d have lasted 10 rounds with Muhammad Ali? Besides, he’s dead.”

Patterson handed back Tasha’s phone and shook her head.

“Does it matter? I look like I was in a fight.”

Tasha set her phone back down on the table and gave a shrug. “You sort of were,” she said. “Shepherd hit you in the face with a chair.” She was quiet for a second. “Maybe you should stay home today to recover. No one would blame you.”

Patterson untangled her legs and rolled onto her back signaling the end of the discussion.

“No,” she said as she stared up at the ceiling. “I need to get into the lab to review the security footage. Shepherd didn’t just break out of her handcuffs, swing a chair at my face, and escape from a building full of federal agents. She had help. _Someone_ helped her. Someone with _access_.”

Tasha sat up and swung her legs out of bed. She grabbed for the robe hanging on the bedpost and wrapped it around herself. She scooped the dress she’d worn the previous night off the floor, inspecting it for a minute before tossing it in the hamper.

“Who’d have access that’d wanna let a known terrorist out?” she asked absently as she headed towards the bathroom. “Who’s even left in Sandstorm? Aren’t they all dead or in jail?”

“I don’t know,” Patterson admitted as she wrapped the top sheet around herself and sat up. The sudden movement caused a wave of throbbing pain to shoot through her jaw and she clapped a hand to the injury. When Tasha returned from the bathroom a moment later, she pulled her hand away quickly. If Tasha saw her rubbing at the bruise, she’d be more insistent on Patterson taking the day off work.

“Coffee?” Tasha asked as she made her way out of the bedroom, barely glancing towards Patterson on her trip to the kitchen.

“Please,” Patterson responded as she started slowly out of bed. The throbbing returned to her jaw and she held her hand to it. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

***

Patterson and Tasha separated like shrapnel when the elevator lurched to a stop and the doors slid open at SIOC. They'd been alone in the elevator and Tasha had been playing with Patterson’s hands, mesmerized by the new jewelry they each wore. Before leaving for work, they’d promised each other not to intentionally draw attention to their engagement. The team would find out eventually but this might not be the time. Tasha had even asked if they should leave their rings home but Patterson had shaken her head and refused to take her ring off. Now they walked silently out of the elevator towards Patterson’s lab.

Rich was kicked back in one of the chairs with his feet up on Patterson’s desk when they entered. He jumped up as soon as he saw them and rushed towards Patterson.

“So, I was doing a little thinking as I was sitting here waiting for you to come in late with your designer coffee —” Rich began and then stopped abruptly. He gawked at Patterson’s ring finger. — “and giant diamond ring. Oh, my goodness. Did Agent Grumpy Face propose? Are you two getting married?”

Tasha frowned and glanced at Patterson. If anyone was going to notice, of course it’d be Rich Dotcom. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and was about to respond when Rich grabbed her left hand and pulled it towards him.

“Patsy! Did you propose to Zapata? A double proposal?” He grabbed Patterson’s hand and looked at both rings. “This is adorable! There’s going to be a wedding. I’m invited right? I love weddings. I have a great very subdued, very classy suit, and I’ve been planning this amazing over-the-top, well not quite over-the-top but maybe just ‘top’ wedding for when Bost—”

Tasha yanked her hand free.

“Rich!” she yelled.

Rich looked up at her with a hurt look on his face. He frowned at Tasha and looked to Patterson who was frowning at him.

“It’s a secret, isn’t it?” he asked. “You’re about to tell me not to tell anyone yet.”

“That’s right,” Patterson said. “But yes, we’re engaged.”

“I told you wearing the rings was a bad idea,” Tasha grumbled.

Patterson turned her frown towards Tasha. “It’s not a bad idea,” she said. “You can’t just not wear the rings afterwards.”

Tasha didn’t respond. She fixed Rich with a stern look and pointed a finger at him. “You don’t get to tell anyone,” she said. “We want to tell everyone and unless you want to go back to prison or join Boston on house arrest —”

Rich brightened. “Me and Boston on house arrest? Like toget—”

“ _Separate_ house arrests,” Tasha clarified.

“Oh okay. That makes sense,” Rich said quickly. “I get it. My lips are zipped.” He paused and waited for Patterson to approach her computer and set her purse down. “Okay, but one thing?”

Patterson and Tasha glanced at each other before frowning at Rich.

“It’s just a little thing,” Rich insisted. He wrapped them up in a group hug that Tasha immediately tried to duck out of. “I’m so happy for you two!”

“Thanks, Rich,” Patterson mumbled as she slipped free of his hug. She turned to her desk and immediately started booting up her computer. “What were you saying before all of this?”

“Oh, right,” Rich began and followed Patterson to her computer. “Someone had to have helped Shepherd escape.”

Tasha rolled her eyes.

“No kidding,” she said. “You mean, the terrorist handcuffed to a table didn’t break free on her own? Good input, Rich.”

Rich turned back to look at Tasha who had followed them to Patterson’s desk. “No kidding, Grumpy. You know, you’d think getting engaged and laid would agree with you,” he said and turned back to Patterson. “I was thinking about the security footage and how it went offline. I checked the main junctions. Someone cut the power to the cameras in the interrogation room and the hallway outside. We might get a peek at whoever did it if we rewind the footage.”

Patterson dropped into her chair and cued up the security footage. She used the software’s jog wheel to rewind to the previous day and pressed play. The footage showed heavily armed guards leading Shepherd into the interrogation room and Jake Keaton leaving the room. A few minutes later Reade entered the frame and disappeared just minutes later. Rich impatiently reached in front of Patterson. The video on screen began playing back in quadruple time and agents streamed past the closed interrogation room door in a blur of movement. Patterson was about to protest when he slowed the video back to regular playback speed as Jane entered the frame.

They watched as she had a conversation with Weller and then the doors to the interrogation room opened. Patterson paused the playback and switched to a different camera; the image of the interrogation room filled her monitor and the trio watched Jane converse with Shepherd.

“What the hell is she doing?” Tasha asked, leaning in closer to the screen over Patterson’s shoulder. They watched as Jane got out of her chair and bent next to Shepherd. Jane’s body blocked the camera and they couldn’t see what she was doing.

Patterson looked away from the footage, concern creasing her brow. “You don’t think Jane uncuffed her, do you? Why would she do that?”

Rich and Tasha exchanged a glance. The reason seemed pretty plain: Jane might not be Jane.

“Remi,” Tasha replied, reaching over Patterson and switching the video back to the camera in the hallway outside of the interrogation room. Weller’s back filled the screen as he chatted with Reade and then Jane stepped out of interrogation. They spoke for a moment and then Jane disappeared down the hallway. Patterson switched to another camera in the direction that Jane had gone but she was gone. A moment later the camera went offline.

“Where’d she go?” Rich asked as Patterson flipped between half a dozen security cameras, most of which had gone offline at the same moment the others did.

Patterson gave up on her search and turned in her chair to face Tasha and Rich.

“That’s it,” she said. “That’s all we have and then the cameras go offline.”

“You don’t think Jane freed Shepherd, do you?” Rich asked, looking back and forth from Tasha and Patterson.

“That’s exactly what I think,” Tasha said.

Patterson shook her head. “I don’t think Jane did it,” she said. Tasha arched an eyebrow at her. “I think it was Remi.”

***

Shepherd turned slowly in the middle of the warehouse. It was filled with shipping crates but the thick coating of dust on one of the containers made it seem like no one had been there in a while. She moved to a grime-coated window and glanced out before turning her attention back to Remi.

“You don’t think the FBI is going to look here?” she asked, her voice tinged with venom. Remi had brought them to a former Sandstorm hideout but with the group now either behind bars or dead, Shepherd had to believe that the FBI and the CIA were well aware of every location they’d ever used. Remi was foolish if she thought otherwise.

“They don’t know about it,” Remi insisted as she grabbed a metal folding chair, opened it, and sat.

“So you think,” Shepherd said. She left her spot at the window and approached Remi. She kicked the leg of the chair and tipped Remi out of it. “Don’t get lazy. Laziness and sloppiness go hand and hand. You don’t sit until this blows over.”

Remi collected herself and crossed her arms defensively. She glared at Shepherd.

“A little appreciation would be nice,” she growled. “I got you out of there. We can start rebuilding.”

Shepherd laughed but there was no humor in it. “Rebuilding what? What’s left to rebuild? Everyone is dead. Your brother is dead.”

Remi dropped her arms to her sides. “We can recruit new members.”

“For what? A tea party?” Shepherd spat. “I don’t know if you know this, Remi, but by breaking me out of CIA and FBI custody, you’ve probably drawn attention to yourself and me. There’s nothing to recruit new members to.”

“Phase One and Phase Two.”

Shepherd stepped forward and swiftly smacked Remi on the side of the head.

“Think!” she hissed. “It has been years since you went into that bag and had your memory wiped. A lot of things have happened. Things have _changed_. Phase One and Two are gone. They’re no more. And now you’ve just increased the temperature. You were reckless —”

“Reckless? I just broke you out of CIA custody. You were in a black site!”

“And you were short-sighted,” Shepherd said, regathering her calm. “If you had left me in custody, you could have remained an incredibly dangerous insider. You could have rebuilt on your own. But they know it was you. They’d be stupid to not think it was you.”

Remi shook her head. When Roman had outlined the plan for her, it sounded like a good idea. Not Roman. Roman was dead. This had been her plan.

“So now what?” she asked.

“Now I need time to think,” Shepherd replied.

***

Weller and Reade met Tasha, Rich, and Patterson in the lab. The forensic analyst had called for the briefing and, while Weller and Reade were surprised that Jane was absent, it only reaffirmed Patterson’s belief that Jane had been responsible for Shepherd’s breakout. She brought the security footage up on one of the large wall-mounted monitors.

“So, we think we know how Shepherd got out,” Patterson said, turning a tablet slowly in her hands as she faced the group. “Rich and Tasha and I were going through the security footage from before the incident and we’ve got a solid lead.”

“That’s great,” Weller said. “Who is it?”

Patterson glanced at Tasha who nodded for her to continue.

“You won’t like this,” she said. “It looks like it might have been Jane.”

“What?” Weller demanded. “That’s ridiculous. It wouldn’t be Jane. Why would she want to free Shepherd.”

“If she’s not Jane, she might,” Tasha offered. “We already know that she’s been relapsing into Remi. She may be Remi.”

Weller shook his head. “She’s not.”

Reade placed a calming hand on Weller’s arm. “Kurt, you have to remember that it could be Remi. She’s not the same person as Jane.”

“Don’t you think I would know if my wife wasn’t my wife?” Weller asked, his voice rising.

Tasha tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned her attention to Weller.

“You’re not living with her,” Tasha said. “You see her just as much as we do.”

The light reflected off of Tasha’s hand as she spoke and Reade noticed it. He watched her hand as she spoke and spotted the diamond ring on her left hand. He looked over at Patterson. She’d set the tablet down and had her arms crossed over her body. Whenever they started talking about Jane/Remi she adopted a similar defensive posture.

_Did Patterson propose to Tasha?_ Reade wondered and then heard his name and looked back at Tasha.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked.

Tasha gave him an odd look and repeated herself.

“I just said that we need to find Jane and talk to her. No one has seen her since Shepherd broke out. Can we get a team out there to start searching, Reade?”

Reade nodded. “Oh, definitely. Definitely.”

Weller was shaking his head again. “She had a headache,” he said. “She probably went home or to holding.”

Patterson uncrossed her arms and shifted where she stood. “Fine. Go look,” she said. “The rest of us will figure out what to do next.”

Weller didn’t react for a minute and no one said anything else.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll find her and you’ll see that she had nothing to do with this.”

He started to walk away from the group and turned back quickly. He pointed a finger at Patterson.

“I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through, Patterson,” he said, “but you can’t keep blaming Jane for everything that happens.”

He turned away before she could respond and stalked out of the room.

No one spoke for a long moment until Reade cleared his throat. He looked at Rich.

“Can I have a minute with Patterson and Tasha, Rich?”

Rich pointed to himself and feigned ignorance. “Who? Me? Really?” When Reade didn’t take the bait, he dropped the act. “Okay, yeah, okay.”

Reade waited for Rich to walk away before speaking.

“So I guess congratulations are in order,” he said when it was just the three of them.

Tasha arched an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? Congratulations for what?”

“I know,” Reade said.

“Dammit, Rich,” Patterson groaned. “One day he’s going to keep his giant mouth shut and it will be a miracle.”

“Rich didn’t tell me. I saw your ring,” Reade said to Tasha. He turned to Patterson. “You asked her?”

Tasha sighed and shrugged at Patterson. They were going to tell everyone anyway, and it wasn’t like they could keep it a secret forever.

“Last night when Patterson got home from the infirmary,” she admitted. “We were going to tell you. I don’t want you to think you were an afterthought. We haven’t told anyone. Rich just saw Patterson’s ring.”

Reade’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn’t seen Patterson’s ring.

“Wait, what?”

Patterson uncrossed her arms and let Reade see the ring on her left hand. He looked for a minute and then turned his eyes to Tasha. His face was a mixture of hurt and sadness.

“You asked Patterson?”

Tasha nodded.

“And you asked Tasha?”

Patterson nodded.

“I know I’m supposed to be happy about this and congratulate you guys, but I’m gonna be honest here. I’m not feeling very happy,” Reade said. He glared at Tasha. “You and I meant nothing? You slept with me and gave me this bullshit about how our timing was off. Then you disappear and come back to tell me that you’re in love with Patterson. And I know everything you said but I thought maybe we still had a chance. We never had a chance, did we? It was just a game?”

Tasha didn’t know what to say. She knew telling Reade would be difficult but she didn’t expect him to respond with the anger that she heard in his voice.

“I - I don’t know what to say,” she stuttered. “You’re like my brother. I always thought that maybe there was more to it but it’s Patterson. It’s always been her. I’m sorry, Ed. I never meant to hurt you but I’m in love with Patterson and we’re going to get married.”

Reade shook his head and looked away. He found Patterson looking at him with hurt on her face and he redirected his gaze to the floor. He wasn’t mad at Patterson and seeing her looking at him with so much hurt on her face was too hard.

“I’m not hurt. I’m angry,” he said quietly and took a deep breath. He looked back up and watched Patterson take Tasha’s hand. “I have no right to be angry. You guys are two of my best friends but it feels like someone just plunged a knife into my stomach. I’m sorry. I can’t be happy for you, Tasha.”

He looked at them for a long moment before turning towards his office. Rich saw him leaving the lab and looked back to the two women. They’d gone to each other and Patterson was stroking Tasha’s hair. He may have been mistaken but Tasha looked like she might actually be having an emotion other than annoyance. She was visibly upset. The look on Patterson’s face had moved beyond hurt. Rage had moved in. Rich watched Reade head into his office and then walked briskly in behind him, closing the door.

“With all due respect, you could be happy for them. They are your friends,” Rich said as soon as he was inside.

“Get out, Rich.”

“No,” Rich said as he walked up to Reade’s desk. He stood opposite the assistant director and frowned deeply at him. “This might not be any of my business but Patterson and Tasha love each other. They get to be together and they want to be together forever. I think that’s great. And you can be in here all upset that Tasha didn’t choose you and she’d rather be with Patterson but you’re being stupid. We can’t always get the ones we want. I’ve been chasing after Boston for years now and I know we’re probably never getting back together. Sure, that hurts but if Boston is happy then I’m happy that he’s happy. And you should be happy that Zapata is happy. Patterson makes her happy. If you care about them as your friends, then that should be enough for you. Their happiness should make you happy.”

Rich turned and walked to the glass door of Reade’s office. He grabbed the handle and started to pull it open when he stopped and turned back again.

“You’re selfish. Just be happy for them. It’s not that hard,” Rich said. “They love each other. Be happy they have someone to love even if it’s not you. Stop being a selfish jerk.”

He didn’t wait for Reade’s response. He pulled the door open and stepped through, letting it bang closed behind him. He glanced back towards the lab and saw Patterson and Tasha sitting at the blonde’s desk. He considered going to them and then opted against it. The couple needed something right now, but it wasn’t Rich Dotcom.


	22. To Catch a Predator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane wasn’t answering her phone. Weller had tried calling her but she didn’t pick up. When he’d gone home, the apartment was empty. Weller had been holding out hope that Jane would be there, sitting on the sofa, with a coy smile on her face; but there were no signs that she’d been there recently. In fact, with Jane spending her nights in holding, the apartment was beginning to look more like a bachelor pad than the home of a married couple.

Blake Crawford stood before the windows of her Manhattan office and stared out at the skyline. She liked New York a great deal but spent most of her time in Paris or on her private jet, heading off to one meeting or the other, without much time to spend in New York City. Right now, she had two focuses: Get cozy with the board members of HCI Global and eliminate the Tasha Zapata problem. The former would be much more difficult than the latter, but the latter was what brought her to New York. 

The door to her office opened and the sound of heels clicking on the polished tiled floor filled the room. Blake caught sight of Tasha’s reflection in the windows but didn’t turn to greet her visitor. Instead she waited for Tasha to speak while watching silently in the window’s reflection. 

Tasha stopped in front of Blake’s desk and waited for the blonde woman to turn. When she didn’t, Tasha cleared her throat. 

“Hi Blake,” she said after waiting several awkward moments for Blake to turn and greet her. 

Blake turned slowly, glancing at Tasha over her shoulder. She gave an emotionless smile as she went to her desk chair and sat down, gesturing for Tasha to sit in one of the opposite chairs. 

“Tasha,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even hear you come in. I must have been lost in my own little world. So, what have you got for me?”

Tasha handed a file folder to Blake but when the other woman didn’t reach out to grab it, she set it on the desktop and slid it towards her. 

“I don’t have a lot to report,” Tasha said truthfully. “It’s all in there. There’s been a little... chaos at the FBI and the drive has been put on the backburner. For now.”

Blake eyed the sparkling diamond on Tasha’s left hand as the folder was slid closer to her. She raised an eyebrow both at Tasha’s report and her new ring. It had been nearly a week since she’d last seen Tasha, and though she claimed to have little to report, it seemed Zapata had a busy few days. She’d gotten engaged. 

“Chaos?”

Tasha bit her lip and glanced out towards the large windows that lined the far wall of Blake’s office. This wasn’t information related to the drive and she wondered if there was any harm in sharing recent developments with her. She licked her lower lip and then looked back to see Blake watching her. 

“Shepherd, she’s a —”

“Terrorist,” Blake supplied. “I know who she is. My father and Major General Briggs were acquainted.”

“Right. Of course,” Tasha said and gave a single nod. “She was at the FBI’s office for questioning but she’s escaped CIA custody. Jane’s been relapsing. The ZIP poisoning has her thinking she’s Remi and Remi helped Shepherd escape. It’s been a lot. Patterson hasn’t had time to study the new drive yet.”

“At all?”

“No.”

Blake sat back in her chair and said nothing as she drummed her well-manicured nails on the file folder. After reading all the intel Kira Evans had gathered for her, she was no longer sure if Tasha was telling her the truth, but the agent held her gaze and had a tired look about her. She was telling the truth. Blake was certain of it. There had been chaos. Whether her girlfriend had made progress on the drive remained to be seen, but she guessed if Jane had really helped Shepherd escape there hadn't been much time to focus on solving puzzles and finding a cure for ZIP poisoning.

“Steal the drive,” Blake said finally.

“What?”

“Steal the drive and bring it to me.”

Tasha shook her head and furrowed her brow. “I can’t do that. What do you want me to do? Walk into the FBI, pull the drive out of evidence, and just waltz out of there?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t do that,” Tasha insisted, rising from her chair. “I can’t steal evidence from the FBI.”

Blake stood and walked around the desk to face the agent. She gave an indifferent shrug. "It wouldn’t be the first time you removed evidence from the proper chain of custody. Wasn’t there a knife that somehow found its way out of an evidence locker...?" She let her words trail off and watched a mask of anger cloud Tasha’s face and then quickly disappear.

“Fine,” Tasha said curtly. “I’ll do what I can.”

She turned to exit the office but Blake’s voice stopped her stride. 

“You’ll get the drive for me or I’ll find someone else who will,” Blake said, her voice taking on an icy tone. "You’re not indispensable Agent Zapata."  

***

Jane wasn’t answering her phone. Weller had tried calling but she didn’t pick up. When he’d gone home, the apartment was empty. He'd been holding out hope that Jane would be there, sitting on the sofa, with a coy smile on her face; but there were no signs that she’d been there recently. In fact, with Jane spending her nights in holding, the apartment was beginning to look more like a bachelor pad than the home of a married couple. 

_Where is she?_  he wondered as he sat on the bench in front of his locker. He refused to accept Patterson’s theory that Jane had been responsible for springing Shepherd from the interrogation room. 

Weller picked up his phone again and tapped on her contact info. The phone rang four times and he was directed to her voicemail. 

“Jane, it’s me,” Weller began. “I need you to call me. Something’s happening here and I need you to call me. It’s important.”

He disconnected the call and leaned back against his closed locker door. He scrubbed a hand over his face. 

_What if Patterson was right? What if Jane had freed Shepherd? What if Jane isn’t Jane?_ Weller wasn’t willing to accept that, but the evidence was right in front of him. He’d seen the security footage. Jane had been the last one near Shepherd and now they were both missing. Patterson was rarely wrong. She was probably right about this, too. 

*** 

Remi’s phone rang again. It’d been ringing nearly every 10 minutes, and she’d been ignoring the calls. She no longer bothered to look at the caller ID. She knew who was calling. It was Kurt, and he’d figured it out. 

_No,_  she thought sourly.  _Kurt didn’t figure it out. Patterson did._

It wasn’t hard to figure out, truthfully, and she knew that she would be suspect number one especially after Shepherd cold clocked Patterson with a chair and left her on the floor of the NYO.

“Would you get rid of that thing?” Shepherd snarled when she spotted the device in her daughter’s hand. “The FBI — _Patterson_  — can track it and you’ll lead them right to us. I didn’t raise you to be this stupid.”

Remi started to turn the phone off when Shepherd slapped it out of her hand. It clattered loudly to the concrete floor and skittered away under a nearby steel shelving unit. 

“Don’t just turn it off,” she said. “Get rid of it. Smash it. Throw it in the river. I don’t care but get rid of it. It’ll take your friend Patterson all of three minutes to trace it and find us. I’m not going back to that black site.”

***

Reade was the last to join the team in  the lab.  He stood separate from the group, not willing to be near Rich, Tasha, or Patterson.  Weller looked as if he wanted to talk to no one and stood next to Patterson with his arms crossed and jaw set. 

“Okay, so I managed to ping Jane’s phone,” Patterson said and pulled up a map of Brooklyn to show the assembled team. A red dot flashed near Grand Ferry Park in Williamsburg.  “She’s got it on and if she’s got it with her, they’re here.”

“Alright,” Reade said, nodding. “Let’s gear up and bring 'em in.”

***

Patterson sat at a bank of computer screens in the cramped cargo area of the panel van parked near the chain link fence separating the warehouse’s loading bays from the street. It was much too hot in the van and she’d asked the agent who’d driven the van to leave the engine and air conditioning running but Reade had overruled her – a running engine would just draw extra attention. Now she wiped sweat from her brow and watched the red dot flash on her screen as a black SUV came to a stop on the opposite side of the street as members of the tactical team strapped on bulletproof vests all around her. 

The SUV had barely come to a stop when Tasha jumped out of the backseat, tightening the straps of her vest and carrying her longarm. She hurried over to the van and pounded her fist on the side sliding door until Reade pulled it open for her and stepped aside to allow her to climb inside.  Weller and two other agents followed her inside the cramped van and he yanked the door closed behind them. 

“We got everyone?” Reade asked once the door closed. 

“Yeah. All here,” Weller replied. 

Patterson called up a satellite view of the warehouse and waited for the agents to crowd closer to the screens. She pointed to a spot just adjacent to the property. 

“This is us,” she said. “There are two primary entrances to the building. Here and here.” She tapped her finger on each spot as she spoke. “We have no eyes inside but Jane’s phone is still emitting a signal.” 

The red dot representing Jane’s phone flashed steadily on a secondary screen. Patterson turned slightly on the crate she was perched on and looked expectantly to Reade. 

“Okay then, you all heard Patterson,” Reade said, as he inserted the earpiece to his comms unit. He pointed to two field agents. “Two teams then. I’ll lead the first. Wilson, you’re with me and Weller. Zapata will lead the second team with —”

“What? Tasha?” Weller interrupted. “That’s my wife. I should lead the second team.”

Reade shook his head and frowned. “No, that’s exactly why you’re not leading the second team. Jane’s your wife. You’re not objective about this. Tasha will lead the second team to the main entrance with Hernandez and Johnson.” 

“Reade —”

“Kurt, no. I’ve made my decision. You don’t have to like it but you have to respect it. You’re with me. Zapata leads the second team,” Reade explained. “We’ll take the street side entrance and Tasha, you guys, take the main entrance. Use the comms to coordinate entrance. And Patterson —”

“Watch the little red dot,” Patterson said, her eyes not leaving the screen. “I know, I know. If it moves, you’ll be the first to know.”

The team began double checking their weapons and adjusting their vests as Weller and Reade dissolved into a loud conversation about clouded judgement. Tasha listened for a moment before heading over to where Patterson sat still staring at the dot. She waited for Patterson to notice her but when the blonde didn’t look up, Tasha touched her lightly on the arm, causing her to jump. 

“Sorry,” Tasha apologized when Patterson snapped her head around to look at her. “I just wanted to tell you about my meeting with Blake. We didn’t get a chance to talk before.”

Patterson snuck a glance back at the screens. 

“Sure, go ahead,” she said, trying to maintain eye contact with both her fiancé and the screen and failing. 

“It’s okay, P,” Tasha said. “You can watch the screen.”

Patterson let out an audible sigh. “Thank you! I want to hear what you have to say but Jane and the screen and...” she trailed off. “Go ahead.”

Tasha watched the flashing red dot for a second before launching into the story of her meeting with Blake Crawford at her Manhattan office. 

“I think she suspects something,” Tasha said. “She wants me to —”

“No no no no! Where did it go?” Patterson interrupted. She turned quickly to find Reade in the van, pushing Tasha gently aside. “Reade!”

Reade pushed Tasha further aside, causing her to stumble slightly, and he leaned over Patterson’s shoulder. The red dot that had been flashing on the screen was gone. 

“Everything okay?”

Patterson shook her head. “Opposite opposite. I have no idea what happened but the signal from Jane’s phone is gone. We’ve been sitting here. No one’s been in or out of the warehouse.”

“We go in now,” Reade said. “Let’s go.”

***

The warehouse was empty when Blake and her team of six arrived just before the FBI’s arrival. She’d been expecting to find Jane and Shepherd but was semi-relieved to find the building completely empty. Her plan was risky from the start but the absence of two terrorists made things a little less complicated. Shortly after Tasha had left her office, the phone in her office rang, and she’d been given an unexpected gift. After the fiasco in Tokyo, Blake had activated a mole within the FBI that her father had been able to groom. Hernandez had never actually done any work for Hank or HCI Global, but he didn’t hesitate when Blake activated him. When he was assigned to the team heading to the warehouse, he’d called Blake and she’d thrown her hastily made plan into action. 

It was time to eliminate the Tasha Zapata problem for good. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made. 

***

Reade and Tasha were almost mirror images of each other. They’d each taken up the lead position of their respective teams and stood with their backs to the wall at their assigned entrances, rifles pointed skyward. 

“Zapata?” Reade’s voice crackled in Tasha’s earpiece. 

“Go.”

“Is your door locked?”

Tasha didn’t respond immediately as she carefully reached out and tried the doorknob. It began to turn and she pushed slightly, the door moving inwards easily.

“It’s unlocked.”

“Mine too,” Reade said. “Count of three?”

“Count of three,” Tasha agreed, adjusting her grip on her gun. 

“One. Two. Three.”

Tasha burst through the main door, her two teammates fanning out slightly behind her as they entered. She blinked hard into the darkened room, spotting Reade, Weller, and Wilson filling the door on the opposite side of the warehouse. She scanned the room, the barrel of her rifle sweeping along in front of her. 

“Clear,” she said into the comms unit and stepped further into the room, slightly relaxing the gun’s aim. “What the hell, Reade?” she asked. “It’s empty.”

Patterson’s voice filled their earpieces. “Empty? But Jane’s phone.”

Reade sighed and lowered his gun. He headed towards the center of the warehouse to meet Tasha, checking his left and right. Racks and old pallets obscured a complete view of the room.  

“They’re not here,” Reade said. “Tasha’s right. It’s empty.”

A clicking sound filled the warehouse. It came from somewhere behind Tasha and she turned quickly, raising her rifle back up. Blake Crawford stepped into view from behind a shelving unit. Six men Reade recognized from Tokyo carried rifles and followed her. She held a handgun and leveled it at Tasha as she kicked a cellphone towards Reade. It had been badly burned, the plastic casing melted. 

“Blake?” Tasha asked in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Solving a problem,” Blake said coldly and squeezed the trigger. 

Blake squeezed the trigger of her gun three times and time came to a stop for Tasha. The bullets whizzed through the air and struck her in the center of her chest, knocking her off her feet and onto her back. It felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room and she couldn’t breathe. 

“Tasha!” Reade yelled and pulled the trigger on his own gun. 

***

“Tasha!” 

Reade’s voice filled Patterson’s earpiece and she nearly jumped out of her seat as deafening gunfire replaced his voice and she had to tear the comms unit from her ear. She wished she’d had the chance to set up a few cameras around the warehouse for surveillance but Reade had insisted it would be too risky.

_Not as risky as a gunfight breaking out,_  Patterson thought as she grabbed for her handgun in its holster. She checked the van quickly for another vest but didn’t see one. She pulled the door open and dashed for the main entrance that Tasha had entered through only moments earlier.  The warehouse door was open when Patterson reached it and she stopped at it, putting her back to the wall adjacent the door and peering inside, her gun leading the way. Seeing nothing, she cautiously entered the warehouse. 

Reade was kneeling on the floor in the middle of the room and Weller had Agent Hernandez in handcuffs and shoved up against the wall. Patterson’s eyes fell on a pool of blood near Reade and her breath hitched in her throat. It felt like her heart had stopped beating and she ran to Reade. 

“Tasha!” she cried when she saw Reade hovering over her future wife. She knelt beside him, avoiding the blood, and grabbed for the brunette’s hand. She gave it a squeeze as her eyes began to fill with tears. “Oh my god, Tash.”

Tasha opened her eyes and gazed in Patterson’s. She returned Patterson’s squeeze. 

“I’m okay,” she said breathlessly. “I got hit in the plates.”

“You’re okay?” Patterson repeated, her eyes roaming over Tasha’s body in search of wounds. 

“It hurts like hell but I’m okay.”

Patterson turned her body so she could look at Reade. “What the hell happened in here? Why does Weller have Hernandez in cuffs?”

***

The car Remi had stolen was badly in need of new suspension. She felt every bone in her body vibrate each time Shepherd hit a bump in the road. She gritted her teeth and kept her eyes fixed on the sideview mirror, scanning the road behind them for a tail. The only thing she saw was a small plume of grey-blue smoke trailing out of the car’s tail pipe. 

“You couldn’t have stolen a better car?” Shepherd asked, glancing over at Remi as the car bumped over a pothole. “My fillings are going to rattle loose.”

Remi looked away from the mirror and stared at Shepherd coldly. She’d begun to regret breaking her mother out of CIA custody. Shepherd had wasted no opportunity to belittle and criticize. The only good thing she’d done for her so far was lighting her phone on fire. At least the calls from Weller had finally stopped. 

“I’m sorry. The limousine is in the shop,” Remi replied coolly, returning her gaze back to the mirror. “Where are we going?”

Shepherd stared at Remi for another moment before looking back to the expanse of blacktop as it stretched out in front of them. 

“Somewhere safe.” 


	23. Loose Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thanks for joining us,” Patterson said, looking pointedly at Tasha and Reade. Her eyes softened as she turned her glance to Tasha. “You okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do love to end on cliffhangers. Consider it a commercial break. This is coming to a rapid conclusion, and I think there are no more than five chapters remaining. Thanks for sticking with me as I've rambled for over 74,000 words (this is getting crazy).

The inside of Medical at the NYO was becoming just a little bit too familiar for Tasha’s liking. She’d spent too many hours sitting at Patterson’s bedside as she recovered from one terror attack after the next. Now, however, she was the one sitting on the hospital bed counting ceiling tiles while waiting for whichever doctor was on duty to come by, look at the bruises on her chest, and tell her she was fine but should come back if she felt anything unusual. The hit-in-the-vest drill was also a bit too familiar.  

Tasha replayed the scene in the warehouse over and over in her mind as she tried to figure out how it had all gone sideways so quickly. She and Reade had entered the warehouse at the same time and somehow, they’d both missed Blake Crawford as she stood obscured by a steel shelving unit filled with boxes. The next thing she knew Blake fired a small handgun at her and Tasha was on the floor, staring at the exposed ceiling beams as gunshots rang out all around her. And then Patterson was there, and Tasha was lying in a pool of blood. At first, she wasn’t even sure if it was her own blood. Her chest ached and it was hard to breath. The bullets had hit her in the vest and knocked the wind out of her.  She’d finally turned her head to look around and saw Blake on the ground with several men dressed in black. The blood seemed to belong to them.  On the other side of the warehouse Weller had shoved Hernandez against the wall and was cuffing him. 

_How had Blake gotten there so quickly?_  Tasha wondered as she stared up at the ceiling tiles. Question after question raced through her mind.   _Why was she there at all? Why did Weller cuff Hernandez?_  

“There you are! Why are you still here?” Patterson asked with dismay as she entered the room. She grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it noisily alongside the hospital bed before looking around the room. “Has anyone even checked you out yet?” 

“Isn’t it your job to check me out?” Tasha replied with a smirk. Then, noticing that Patterson didn't return her grin, she got serious. “No. No one’s come by since I got here. I’m still waiting. Forever. I should have brought a magazine or something.” 

Patterson sighed and got up from the chair. She went to the doorway and looked up and down the hall for a doctor or a nurse or anyone wearing a white coat and carrying a stethoscope. She hated Medical almost as much as Tasha did and while she knew protocol dictated that her fiancé get checked out after being shot in the vest, she didn’t want her there any longer than absolutely necessary. Sitting and waiting around seemed unnecessary. When she saw no one official looking, Patterson returned to her seat and dropped heavily in it. She looked down at her hands, turning her engagement ring around and around on her finger before turning her gaze to Tasha who was watching her closely. Patterson chewed her lower lip for a moment and then looked back to the doorway. She turned back to Tasha and met her eyes.  

“Are you okay?” 

“Fine. I promise,” Tasha said, exasperation in her voice. “I’m just waiting for someone with the word ‘doctor’ in their title to say the same thing. The vest took the shots. I’m fine. Just some bruises.” 

Patterson nodded.  

“What the hell happened in there?” 

Tasha shook her head. “I don’t even know. I keep trying to replay it in my head. I have no idea,” she admitted after a minute. “Reade went to the side door with Weller and Wilson. I went to the front with Hernandez and Johnson. We counted it down and went in. There was no one there.” 

“Blake was there.” 

“Blake was there,” Tasha repeated after a second.  

Patterson said nothing as she thought about this. “You don’t think she’s working with Remi, do you?” 

“No,” Tasha replied immediately. “She didn’t know about Remi until earlier today when I met with her in her office. What happened with —” 

“Patterson,” Reade interrupted as he entered the room. “We need you back in the lab.” 

Patterson shook her head and fixed Reade with a hard glare. “No. I’m staying here with Tash.” 

“Patterson —” Tasha began softly.  

“No,” Patterson insisted, snapping her head back around to look at Tasha. “You stayed with me every time I was in the hospital. I’m not going anywhere. Rich is in the lab. Have him do whatever you need me for.” 

Tasha sighed and grabbed Patterson’s hand. She squeezed it until Patterson turned back to look at her.  

“I am fine,” she said slowly, pronouncing each word carefully. Then she smiled. “Please. Go. Save the world. Do something brilliant so we can find Remi and Shepherd. You’ll have plenty of time to worry about me later. Maybe tonight.” 

Reade rolled his eyes as Patterson grinned at Tasha who gave her a mischievous look.   

“So?” Reade asked after a moment when neither agent responded.  

“Right,” Patterson replied, releasing Tasha’s hand and getting up. “I’ll check out the traffic cameras and see if we can get a look at whatever they’re driving. Maybe I’ll be able to pinpoint wherever they went.” 

Patterson gave Tasha another long look before the brunette waved a hand towards the door and shooed her away. Reade turned and started to follow her when Tasha stopped him. 

“Ed,” she said. “Can we talk? I mean, I have to sit here anyway...” 

Reade hesitated and glanced back down the hallway. He saw Patterson rounding the final corner and out of sight. He gave a sigh and sat down in the chair Patterson had just vacated.  

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll wait with you.” 

Tasha gave a faint smile. Silence fell between them for several long uncomfortable moments. Aside from the raid on the warehouse, they hadn’t spoken to each other since Reade told her that he couldn’t be happy for her. His words stung, but Tasha still thought of Reade as her friend. She couldn’t imagine not having him in her life. Tasha cleared her throat.  

“I know you’re still mad at me,” she said finally. “And I’m sorry if I hurt you. I didn’t tell you right away because I wanted to protect you. You’re so important to me.” 

Reade opened his mouth to speak but didn’t know what to say. A million thoughts and replies raced through his mind. He was mad.  

_Irrationally mad_ , his thought.  _Tasha hasn’t done anything wrong except agree to marry someone she loves. But it’s not me._  

Rich was right, and the idea of that was the worst part of this whole thing. Rich was right. Reade was being selfish. Tasha didn’t want him the same way so, rather than accept her into his life in whatever way he could have her, he was trying to cut her out.  

“Reade?” Tasha asked, her brow furrowed as she waited for his response.  

He sighed again and leaned back in the chair.  

“I don’t know what to say,” Reade admitted. “I think, even after you told me you and Patterson were a couple, that there was always a chance. For me, I mean. That maybe, I don’t know. Maybe you and I still had a chance. But there isn’t, is there?” 

Tasha shook her head and frowned. Reade sounded hurt and she was certain she could hear sadness there.  

“I’m sorry, Reade,” she repeated. “I love Patterson. I’ve asked her to marry me and she asked me to marry her. We’re gonna do it. We’re gonna get married, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life with her.” 

Reade swallowed hard. “She makes you happy?” 

Tasha nodded. “Yeah. She does.” 

“I don’t even know you anymore,” Reade replied. “I did once. You were my partner. My best friend. But now? I don’t know who this Tasha Zapata is.” 

“I’m the same person I always was,” Tasha explained and gave a small shrug. “I’m just happier.” 

Reade shook his head. “You’re not though,” he said. “You’re not the same. You’ve lied to me. You’ve twisted the truth. You’ve hidden the truth from me. From all of us.” 

Tasha was shaking her head, she felt anger rising up again and had to bite it back. “I had to, Reade. I was doing my —” 

“Job,” Reade finished. “I know. That's what you always say.” 

“It’s the truth.” 

“Is that what the truth looks like coming from you?” 

“Ouch, Reade,” Tasha said and finally looked away.  

“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for,” Reade said. He thought for a moment and collected his thoughts before continuing. “I might have loved you once. I thought I did. But things have changed. They’ve changed for you and they’ve changed for me. You’re my friend. You  _were_ my friend, anyway. I don’t know why you came to my place that night but it doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve been leading this life that I knew nothing about. You never talked to me. I could have helped you but you didn’t tell me anything until you needed something. I can’t forgive you for that.” 

“Reade, I’m —” Tasha began. 

“I can’t forgive you, but I never wanted to see you get hurt,” Reade continued, cutting her off. “I still care about you, Tasha. And Patterson. You two are my friends even if one of you has been leading a double life.” 

Tasha smiled. “Does this mean...?” She trailed off. 

“Yeah, I’ll come to your wedding,” Reade said and returned her smile. It didn’t quite meet his eyes and Tasha could tell he was working hard to maintain the grin. “But don’t ask me to do anything like be your best man.” 

“Deal.” 

*** 

Reade and Tasha hurried off the elevator towards SIOC where Patterson was waiting impatiently with Rich and Weller. The scientist held a tablet in her hands and turned it end over end as she waited.  

“Thanks for joining us,” Patterson said, looking pointedly at Tasha and Reade. Her eyes softened as she turned her glance to Tasha. “You okay?” 

Tasha nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. What have you got?” 

Patterson didn’t respond right away. She stared at Tasha and searched her face for signs that the brunette might not be telling her the truth about her condition.  

“You saw a doctor?” she asked, ignoring the rest of the team. 

“Yes, Patterson,” Tasha replied.  

“And you’re —” 

“She’s fine,” Reade interrupted, stepping forward and breaking Patterson’s line of sight with Tasha. “The doctor came by, checked her out, and told her it was just bruising. Satisfied? What have you got?” 

Patterson stared at Reade and looked past him to Tasha who nodded at her and gave a weak smile. Patterson turned to face the monitors and looked down quickly at her tablet.  

“Okay then,” she said. “So, Remi and Shepherd stole a car from the street outside of the warehouse just before we got there. It looks like one of them set Jane’s phone on fire. It was able to maintain its signal until, well, until it couldn’t. That’s when we went in.  Great decoy. Anyway, I was able to pull the footage from a nearby traffic camera and I won’t lie, the footage isn’t great. It’s grainy and we had to zoom in like a thousand percent but you can see Remi and Shepherd get into this car and head North on River Street.” 

“North?” Weller asked. “Why North? They should have wanted to get out of the city. North takes you into Greenpoint.” 

Patterson tapped on her tablet and changed the display on the monitors. One monitor showed footage of what looked like an old Toyota sedan while a second monitor showed a map with a red line tracking the vehicle’s progress. 

“This is the car Jane, I mean Remi, boosted,” she said. “It’s a Toyota  _something_ , probably mid-90s. We were able to track it through traffic cameras and they leave the city and then we lose track of them.” 

Weller crossed his arms and stared at the screen in disbelief. 

“There’s no other cameras?” he asked when no one said anything. 

Patterson glanced to Rich who took a step forward. He took the tablet from Patterson’s hands and started tapping on it frantically.  

“There are,” he said as images of traffic intersections filled the monitors. “Nearly every town in a 10-mile radius around the city has at least one traffic camera —” 

“Great,” Weller interrupted. “Use those.” 

“One traffic camera in the center of town,” Rich finished. “Remi and Shepherd never entered into any of them. We looked.” 

“Look again,” Weller insisted. 

“We did, Kurt,” Patterson said softly. “A lot. But they’re not there.” 

“They didn’t disappear,” Weller said. “You’re just not looking carefully enough.” 

Patterson took her tablet back and switched the monitor displays to display a map view. The red line that had represented the path Remi and Shepherd had taken stopped near Harriman.  

“We did,” Patterson replied. “This is the last place they appear on camera.” 

Tasha took a few steps closer to the monitors and looked at them carefully. “Harriman?” she asked curiously. “Zoom in a little bit, Patterson?” 

Patterson cast Tasha an interested glance and then began to zoom in on the map.  

“Stop,” Tasha said. She studied the map again and then looked back up at the group. “Doesn’t this area look familiar to anyone?” 

Reade shrugged. “West Point is near there.” 

Tasha looked incredulously at each of the assembled members of the team. “Really? Am I the only one who remembers?” 

“What are you talking about, Tash?” Patterson asked, squinting at the screen in attempt to figure out what Tasha was looking at.  

“It’s Putnam County,” Tasha said. She waited for a response. When she didn’t get one, she continued. “Putnam County? Mile marker 9D 8203 1000?” 

Patterson shook her head and looked to Reade who shrugged.  

“What the hell, guys!” Tasha exclaimed. She grabbed the tablet from Patterson and zoomed in on the mile marker’s location just across the river from West Point. “When Jane zipped Roman, he told us he was near mile marker 9D 8203 1000. There’s a Sandstorm hideout near there!” 

“Let’s move then,” Weller said. “That has to be where they went.” 

Reade held out a hand to stop Weller as he started to turn towards the locker room to gear up.  

“Let’s send a surveillance team out first,” he said. “No sense in all of us heading out there to find out that’s not where they went or to walk into another trap. Besides, we have two in interrogation that need to be dealt with before we go anywhere.” 

*** 

Blake Crawford sat handcuffed in an interrogation room. It wasn’t a really effective handcuffing – one arm was held in a sling and thick white bandages covered her shoulder. She’d been shot and disarmed in the warehouse but her injury was minimal. She stared down at the table, her face blank.  

From where Patterson and Tasha sat in the control room, Blake showed no signs of emotions. When Reade entered, the blonde woman didn’t even look up. They watched as he sat down at the table across from Blake.  

“Is she okay?” Tasha asked. 

“Single gunshot wound to the shoulder,” Patterson replied. “Reade shot her.” 

“I don’t know if we’ve ever been introduced,” Reade was saying. “My name is Edgar Reade. I’m the assistant director of the New York FBI.” 

Blake looked up at Reade and fixed him with an icy stare.  

“You shot me,” she said. “I want my lawyer.” 

“You shot at a federal agent,” Reade replied as he started to his feet again.  

Blake snorted derisively. “She’s playing both sides,” she said. “Your federal agent has been working for me.” 

Reade gave a non-committal shrug and started towards the door.  

“We’ve called Keira Evans, since she represented you the last time you were here,” Reade said calmly. “She said she no longer represents you. I’ll come back when you’re feeling more cooperative.” 

*** 

Agent Hernandez looked around the interrogation room. His eyes were wide and Tasha could tell he was anxious. Everything about him screamed “deer in the headlights.” He pulled at the handcuffs that chained him to the table and nearly jumped out of his chair when Weller stepped through the door.  

“Hernandez,” Weller began, pulling out a chair at the table and sitting down. “Aiding and abetting a terrorist. Leaking sensitive classified information. I’m sure a district attorney could probably put together a few more charges like endangering the lives of a team of federal agents and accepting bribes. Wanna tell me what the hell is going on?” 

“Hank Crawford approached me two years ago when I was in the Academy,” Hernandez said quickly. His voice quavered and his mouth was dry. “He promised me a position at HCI Global working in his private security force. Can I get a glass of water? It’s warm in here, isn’t it?” 

Weller glanced up at the security camera and gave a short nod. Patterson turned to one of the lab techs who was sitting behind her. She wordlessly gestured towards a nearby water cooler and then turned her attention back to the monitor.  

“In a minute,” Weller said, looking back at Hernandez. “Hank Crawford is dead. So who are you working for now?” 

Hernandez blinked. He thought the answer was obvious.  

“Blake Crawford contacted me a few months ago and told me she found my name in some paperwork her father left behind. She wanted to activate me as a mole in the bureau.” 

“And you said yes?” Weller asked in shock. “You know that’s a crime, right? You can go to jail.” 

The door to interrogation slid open and Patterson’s tech entered carrying a paper cup of water. She handed it to Weller and left without a word. Weller looked down at the water and pushed it halfway across the table towards Hernandez. It was just out of his reach. 

“I didn’t know she was going to try to kill Agent Zapata,” Hernandez stammered as he strained against his cuffs to reach the cup. “She told me that there were loose ends that needed to be tied up. I was supposed to contact her if the team went out into the field.” 

Weller started to push the cup towards Hernandez and then stopped. It was still just a bit too far for the agent to grab it.  

“What did you think she wanted to do?” Weller grumbled. 

“I didn’t know. I swear,” Hernandez said. Sweat was starting to bead on his forehead and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat again.  

“You pulled your gun and aimed it at a fellow agent,” Weller said.  

“No! That’s not what happened!” Hernandez insisted and licked his lips.  

“Then tell me what happened.” 

Hernandez strained to reach the cup of water again and then looked up pleadingly at Weller. Kurt sighed and shoved the cup closer to the handcuffed agent. Hernandez picked it up and drank.

“Thank you,” Hernandez said, setting the cup down. “Look, Agent Weller, I don’t know much. My job was to let Blake know if the entire team was going out into the field. It was just a coincidence that I was assigned to go out with you. She never told me the details. All I knew is that she had loose ends to clean up.” 

Weller nodded and stood up.  He turned towards the door and took a few steps before turning back.  

“And in exchange what? What’d Blake promise you?” 

Hernandez said nothing for a minute and then sat back hard in his seat. He glanced up at the security camera, as if he just now realized the complete hopelessness of his situation.  

“My daughter has an aggressive form of leukemia,” he said finally. “Our insurance is good but it doesn’t cover most of her treatments or her meds. Blake said if I helped her, she’d help us.” 

Weller pointed a finger at him. “Here’s a newsflash for you. She lied to you. Blake Crawford won’t help you. And now you’re gonna need a good lawyer too.”  


	24. Caught in a Trap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're coming to a rapid conclusion, guys. I've got just two chapters planned after this. It's a little bittersweet, honestly, but I'll be very glad to finally mark this epic tome as "Complete."

Shepherd wasn’t thrilled about being back in the Putnam County hideout. The FBI had raided following her arrest and what had once been a fully functional and self-sufficient compound was now without electricity, dirty, and barely habitable. But Remi may have been right — it would be one of the last places the FBI would search. As far as the feds knew, this stronghold was neither strong nor a hold.  

She leaned an elbow on a table and squinted down at the notebook in front her. Dim light filled the room from a handful of kerosene lanterns Remi found in a crate, but it was still hard to focus on putting together the plan for their next steps. With no one left in their cause, they were back at square one. Shepherd wasn’t even certain it was worth going back to the beginning. 

"Heads up," Remi called as she returned to the room. She set a pistol down next to her mother’s elbow and smiled. "FBI missed the floorboard cache under Roman’s bed." 

Shepherd picked up the gun and checked the clip and tested the slide. Everything was in working order. She gave a nod and tucked the gun into her waistband.  

"Good work," she said as she returned her attention to the paper in front of her.  

Remi went around to the other side of the table and peered down at what Shepherd was working on. There wasn’t much to see but it was a start. For now, they were safe. Sure, the power had been cut but there were beds and she’d found a small supply of MREs in the same place she found the guns.

_Hello, Mexican-style chicken stew_ , she thought. 

The MREs would give them at least a few days while working to figure out their next steps.  

*** 

A team of four field agents were lying flat just south of the Sandstorm compound in Putnam County. They were equipped with binoculars, night vision, and thermal imaging cameras. There was no doubt – two people were inside the main building.  

Two agents slid into place beside the four conducting active surveillance. One of the agents signaled silently and rapidly: Two targets confirmed inside. Make the call. 

*** 

The FBI helicopter touched down several miles away from the Sandstorm compound. The pilot had explicit instructions to fly far from the hideout. Two agents from the surveillance team would be waiting nearby with a SUV to take Weller, Reade, and Zapata to their final destination. Once Shepherd and Remi were in custody, the pilot could bring the helicopter closer, but for now the risk of being spotted or heard was too great.  

Reade, Weller, and Zapata jumped down from the helicopter and jogged towards the waiting black SUV. Tasha tapped her earpiece and got an open line to Patterson back at the NYO. 

"Hey P. We just landed. We're about 5 miles out," she yelled over the sound of the helicopter. She slammed the passenger door of the SUV and lowered her voice to its normal level. "On our way to the compound now." 

"Got it," Patterson replied, her voice filling their headsets. "Be careful." 

Tasha clicked off the headset and turned in her seat so she could face Weller and Reade in the backseat.  

"Okay, so what’s the plan?" she asked.  

Reade opened his mouth to speak but Weller cut him off.  

"I’ve been thinking about this —" 

"Kurt, you’re not objective," Reade interrupted. "Jane’s your wife." 

Weller nodded and frowned at Reade.  

"Right, and that’s why you need to listen to my plan," he said firmly.  He waited for anyone to challenge him but continued on when no one did. "I’m gonna go in through the front. Alone. I’ll engage Remi. Talk to her like she’s my wife. You two come in the back and make the take down and arrests. Surveillance and tactical can cover any other exits." 

Neither Reade nor Tasha responded for a minute. Tasha finally nodded. 

"It makes sense," she said. "Weller can make her think he tracked her here by himself. That he just wants to bring her in and get her help. Play the loving husband —" 

"—I  _am_  the loving husband," Weller insisted.  

Tasha waved him off as she continued talking.  

"If Weller can distract her enough, we should be able to slip in and grab them both." 

Reade shook his head.  

"It won’t be that easy," he said. 

"Never is," Tasha replied and glanced out the windshield. The SUV was slowing down as they approached a heavily wooded area just a half mile away from the compound. "You ready for this?" 

The vehicle came to a stop and the driver turned to look at them. He gave them quick directions to where the surveillance team was still hunkered down. When they'd all exited, he drove off in the opposite direction.  

*** 

Weller approached the front door of the compound. The surveillance team had confirmed that there were just two people, believed to be Shepherd and Remi, in a room situated in the center of the building. A series of empty rooms and hallways were between him, Remi, and whatever surprises she and Shepherd might have in store.  He took a deep breath and checked the clip of his handgun. Weller tucked the gun into the holster at the small of his back and quietly pushed his way into the building.  

As he wound his way through the maze of empty corridors and rooms, he glanced inside each unoccupied space. If surveillance had been wrong, coming through the front door alone would be a terrible mistake.  

Weller heard voices as he approached the center room. A faint glow of light filled the doorway.  

_Candles?_ he wondered as he paused briefly and listened. It was definitely Remi and Shepherd. It sounded like they were discussing a possible plan. Their words were muffled enough that he couldn’t quite make them out but it would make sense. They were on the run and they’d need a plan.  

_It doesn’t matter_ , Weller thought.  _This is where it ends_ _._  

He checked for the handgun in its holster again. Assured that it was where it belonged, he took the final few steps to the open door and went inside.  

"Jane," he called. "I’m here to bring you home." 

Remi and Shepherd turned away from the open notebook on the table to face their visitor. Shepherd grabbed for her gun and aimed it at Weller. He raised his hands to show he was unarmed and took another step into the room.  

"Jane’s dead," Remi snarled, raising her own gun and flipping the safety off. "I’m not going anywhere with you." 

Weller shook his head and frowned.  

"No," he insisted. "I don’t believe that. Jane is still there. She’s still inside of you. And she’s a good person. I’ve come for my wife." 

Remi increased the pressure on the trigger and shook her head violently.  

"Shut up!" she bellowed. "Stop talking. Stop saying things. Stop calling me Jane. Jane. Is.  Dead." 

"No," Weller repeated. He took another cautious step forward, his hands still raised. "You’re my wife. And whether you want to believe it or not, you’re dying." He cast a pointed glance at Shepherd. "The ZIP  _she_ injected you with is killing you. Patterson... Patterson thinks she can find a cure. She might have one right now. But you have to come back with me." 

Shepherd stepped in between Remi and Weller. She put a hand on the barrel of Remi’s gun and pushed it towards the floor.  

"Kurt," she began quietly. "You blame me for this but you should be thanking me. I’m the person who gave you your beloved Jane in the first place. But Jane is gone and there’s nothing you can do. She’s not leaving with you." 

Weller didn’t respond immediately, he took a step to the side so he could see Remi. The woman formerly known as Jane stared back him coldly but she’d relaxed her grip on her gun. It was in her right hand, hanging limply alongside her leg. Blaming Shepherd had been a calculated move, and Weller hoped that she was thinking things through. It would be much easier to take her willingly than to fight both Shepherd and Remi.  

"How about you let her decide?" Weller said finally.  

Shepherd turned back and glanced at Remi. She kept her gun trained on Weller as she looked back and forth between them.  

"This is a trick," Remi said. She slowly raised her gun back up. "Where’s your weapon, Kurt?" 

Weller nodded slowly and reached to the handgun in its holster. He held it up, fingers far from the trigger. 

"Drop it," Shepherd commanded as Weller set the gun on the floor at his feet. "Kick it away." 

He gave it a light kick, sending the weapon away from all of them. It skidded to a stop against the wall.  

"Please, Remi," Weller tried again. "Come with me. You will die from the ZIP. The headaches, dizzy spells, memory lapses – they'll all just keep getting worse. Let me help you." 

Shepherd gave Weller a sharp look and then turned back to Remi. 

"He’s lying," she said. "Why would I poison my own daughter?" 

"Because you’re selfish monster," Weller grumbled. "Listen to me Jane  – Remi, believe what you want but you know how you feel. You’re sick. We, me, Patterson, the FBI, we can help." 

Shepherd began to respond but Remi raised a hand and cut her off. She didn’t answer for a minute as she seemed to consider what Weller was saying. Finally, she began walking forward, gun still aimed at Weller. When she was within arm's length, she adjusted her aim so they barrel of the gun was pointing between Weller’s eyes.  

*** 

Tasha and Reade heard raised voices from somewhere up ahead. There was a loud bang and a shout. Something metal hit the floor hard and the sound echoed loudly through the hallway. They were still making their way through the building; the center room was still at least a corridor away, and they exchanged a quick look before breaking into a sprint. Tasha fumbled her own gun free from its holster as they rounded the final corner and reached the dimly lit makeshift command center where Remi and Shepherd were now standing face to face shouting at one another. Weller scrambled towards the edge of the room where his gun lay. Tasha and Reade barely had time to take in the scene in front of them.  

Remi appeared to be unarmed, a second gun that appeared to have been dropped or thrown or knocked away was a few feet away on the floor. She and Shepherd were only inches apart and they shouted over each other, their words getting lost. Shepherd had a gun raised and pointed at Remi. This wasn’t what Reade and Tasha expected to be walking into when Weller had pitched his plan in the back of the SUV.  

As Shepherd yelled, she jabbed the barrel of her gun at Remi. Before she could think, Tasha pulled the trigger on her own gun.  

Time seemed to come to a brief stop. Shepherd’s face changed from one of rage to one of shock as she fell to the floor. Reade rushed forward, handcuffs out, and slapped them around Remi’s wrists before she could react. Weller holstered his weapon as he crouched down next to Shepherd. He felt for a pulse.

Tasha’s shot had been fatal.  

*** 

Remi sat on the bunk in the holding cell she’d spent so much time in. Two FBI agents in bulletproof vests and carrying automatic rifles stood sentinel just outside the door. She stared emotionless at the floor and tried to put all the pieces together. She’d been right. It'd been a trick. Whether the FBI had planned to kill Shepherd was irrelevant. The woman she’d known as her mother and commanding officer was gone. She ought to have felt  _something_  but there was nothing.  

Nothing except another headache pounding away behind her eyes.  

_Maybe Weller is right. Maybe I’m dying_ , she thought.  

*** 

Patterson was transfixed by Remi as she watched through the closed-circuit cameras but there was nothing to see. Remi hadn’t moved since sitting down on the bunk. It felt slightly voyeuristic, but Patterson was trying to make sense of the dichotomy that Jane had become. How could one person be so good and so evil all at once? It occurred to her how big of a chance Shepherd had taken the day she decided to ZIP her daughter: There was no guarantee that Remi would become the Jane Doe they’d all come to know. Now, as she pondered potential treatments and cures, Patterson had to face another truth: There was no guarantee that Remi would once again become Jane Doe. Not that she had a treatment or cure in mind.  

They’d spent months going over the information Roman had compiled in his data caches. None of it made much sense and what did make sense wasn’t exactly earth shattering. She’d already come to many of the same conclusions on her own.  

"Hey," Tasha said as she entered the lab and spotted Patterson at her desk.  

Patterson quickly flipped off the video feed from Remi’s holding cell, her screen filling with the latest information from Roman’s drives.  

"Hi," she smiled, leaning forward to give Tasha a quick kiss.  

Tasha looked down at Patterson’s screen and frowned. It looked like her fiancé was just going back through the data again. For the hundredth time. 

"Anything?" 

Patterson shook her head and sighed.  

"No. I know I’m missing something," she said. "Roman wouldn’t have had us jump through all these hoops for nothing. He wouldn’t waste his sister’s time like this if he didn’t think there was hope." 

Tasha said nothing as she stepped around behind Patterson to read the computer screen over her shoulder. She slipped her arms around the blonde’s waist as she studied the information and placed a kiss on her neck.  

"What does Rich think?" 

Patterson hesitated. Rich was full of conspiracy theories, each wilder than the last, but he had helped her design a simulation that would allow them to test out potential treatments and cures without turning Jane into a human guinea pig. The simulation, however, was useless without a treatment.  

"A lot of things," she admitted. "He’s a big fan of his theory that Roman wasn’t leaving clues for  _Jane_  but for  _him_ instead _._ He did help me design a simulation for whenever we do find a solution." 

"And you don’t have any ideas?" 

Patterson sighed again and turned around in her chair to face Tasha.  

"No," she said, a touch of anger in her voice. "Nothing. I have no idea where to even start but I need to figure it out. Fast." 

*** 

Reade stared at the monitors in SIOC as he waited with Weller for Patterson to start the briefing. All of the screens were showing the same thing: a computer-generated mock-up of Jane. Patterson and Tasha entered the briefing area, their conversation hushed, as Rich followed close behind.  

"Hi, everyone," Patterson greeted the team as Tasha joined Reade and Weller. Rich quickly stepped into the space she'd vacated and stood next to Patterson. She pointed up at the monitors. "I’d like to introduce you all to Simu-Jane —" 

"We created a computer simulation of Jane so we could get a better understanding of how ZIP is affecting her bo...dy..." Rich said, trailing off as he caught Patterson’s glare. "Sorry. I’ll just... you... go ahead." 

Patterson stared at Rich for another beat before turning her attention back to the team who were now looking at the monitors carefully.  

"Right," she began. "Like Rich said, this is a simulation of Jane. We’ve taken all her medical records and test results and created this. We hope that we can use it to track the ZIP’s progress and maybe find a way to reverse or halt its effects."  

Weller nodded. This felt like progress. Finally. It was refreshing, and it was the first time he’d allowed himself to feel hopeful since he’d learned about Jane’s poisoning.  

"What have you found so far?" he asked. 

"Truthfully? Not much," Patterson admitted. She tapped the screen of the tablet she carried and the display on the monitors changed. They were now looking at a close up of Jane’s brain. Large sections flashed a bright red. "This is an approximation of what Jane’s brain is like right now. All these red areas? Those are the areas that have been affected by the ZIP. Not to get too deep into it but basically, everything red is shutting down." 

"Shutting down?" Reade asked. "What do you mean?" 

Patterson turned her attention back from her tablet to Reade. "I mean just that. It’s shutting down. The ZIP is making her brain how to do basic tasks." 

Rich nodded and continued, his voice a little softer than it had been when he’d excitedly jumped into Patterson’s explanation. "The ZIP is traveling through her nerves and synapses. Once it reaches her brain stem, there’s really no telling what will happen. She may lose her hearing or her vision." 

"It’s possible," Patterson began cautiously, "that she could forget how to breathe." 

"What? How?" Weller asked, looking away from the monitors and meeting Patterson’s eyes. "How long?" 

Patterson glanced down at her hands and the back at the team. She caught Tasha’s eye and the brunette gave her a nod.  

"We don’t know," she said. "It could be any time." 


	25. All Fall Down

The apartment was dark when Tasha returned from yet another meeting at the CIA. Since Blake Crawford’s arrest, she’d been spending more and more time answering questions about her time embedded with the new CEO of HCI Global.  Shepherd’s death hadn’t made things any better. Even though she’d technically been in FBI custody at the time of her escape, she was still a CIA asset and Tasha had not only shot her, but she’d killed her while working with the FBI as part of an off-the-books CIA op. Things were a bit messy and complicated right now. 

She glanced around the darkened room for a note from Patterson and, when she didn’t find one, checked the time. Just a few minutes after 7 p.m. Tasha knew exactly where Patterson was. She was in the same place she’d been every night for the last week: at work. Patterson had been logging longer hours than she ever had. She was up before their alarm went off, showered, and dressed before Tasha even stumbled her way to the kitchen in search of coffee. That morning she’d seen Patterson for just five minutes as the blonde was clipping on her holster and shrugging into her jacket. They’d had a quick kiss –  _more of a_ _peck_ , Tasha’s mind objected – and then Patterson slipped out the front door. It hadn’t even been 6 a.m.  

Now Tasha dropped her purse down on the kitchen counter and fished out her phone. She was hoping for a text but there was none which meant her fiancé had no idea what time it was and going home wasn’t even on her radar. Patterson was working too hard, and Tasha was beginning to worry about her. It was important to try to find a cure for Jane’s ZIP poisoning but if that cure came at Patterson’s own health, Tasha didn’t care if they ever cured Jane. Patterson had to come first. And if she wasn’t willing to look out for herself, Tasha was more than willing to look out for her.   

Tasha pulled up her recent contacts and tapped the listing for Thai Jasmine. She’d pick up dinner on her way to the NYO in an effort to woo the blonde away from her work with the delicious smell of panang, glass noodles, and pad khing. If anything, Tasha would at least be able to sate her own craving for Thai food and earn a few relationship bonus points for providing what she was certain would be much needed food. Knowing Patterson, this might be the first thing she’d eaten since her morning coffee. 

 _Unless she had a Go-gurt again_ , Tasha thought and rolled her eyes as she picked her bag up and headed towards the door. She reminded herself to check Patterson’s snacks stash when she got to the office. She bet it needed to be refilled.   


***

Double vision had somehow morphed into triple and then eventually quadruple vision. Remi rubbed her hands over both eyes before squinting out through the clear front wall of her cell. The two guards stationed outside the door were out of focus. If she didn’t know better, guard duty had been taken over by four agents.  She started to get up from where she sat on her bunk but couldn’t find her balance. She allowed herself to drop back down onto the thin mattress. As Remi tried to keep herself from falling over, she couldn't help but notice that the room seemed to grow slightly dim. 

"Hey," she called to the guards as she gripped the edge of the bunk tightly. When they didn’t react to her, she tried again. "Hey! Someone needs to call Weller. Something’s not right..." 

Remi’s voice trailed off as the room went dark. She lost her grip on the edge of the bunk and slid onto the floor as she desperately tried to grab onto anything to stop her slide. She heard both guards start to shout and one of them must have grabbed for a radio because she heard him calling for help. There was a jingle of keys and the sound of the cell door opening and then a buzzing sound filled her ears.

***

 _Glass noodles_ , Patterson thought as she punched a series of commands into the Jane simulator. She shook her head and glanced around.  _Why does it smell like glass noodles? Is that pad khing?_

"Hey, I brought dinner," Tasha announced as she rounded the corner into the lab. She was carrying a paper bag and from the smells wafting her way, Patterson knew it was their regular order from Thai Jasmine just a few blocks away. It smelled delicious and her stomach growled. 

"Dinner? It’s not even —" Patterson began and then fell silent as she looked at her watch. "Oh. I missed lunch."

"And that answers my question," Tasha said as she began setting out various cartons of food. "Come on. Get over here and eat with me. Time to take a break."

Patterson started to shake her head. She really didn’t have time for a break. While she’d been struggling to come up with anything resembling a plan to save Jane, Remi’s security detail had sent out an alert. Remi had collapsed. She was now in the hospital and, if the reports Reade had been texting her were accurate, it didn’t look good. She needed to find a solution or something hopeful and fast. 

Her stomach growled again. The food Tasha brought  _did_  look good. 

"Okay," she agreed finally. "I really don’t have a lot of time, though. I’ve got to come up with something."

Tasha pulled out a chair nearest to their impromptu dinner set-up and beckoned for Patterson to sit down. As the blonde approached, Tasha noticed the dark circles under eyes and the heavy bags that had settled there. If she hadn’t been curled up beside her the night before, Tasha would have thought Patterson hadn’t slept in weeks. 

"Are you okay?" Tasha asked as she filled a plate. "You look exhausted."

"Hmmm?" Patterson asked, piling a helping of glass noodles onto the paper plate Tasha handed her. 

Tasha reached a hand out and stopped Patterson from adding more food to her plate. "I said you look tired. Are you alright?"

"Oh," Patterson replied and nodded. "Good. Yeah. Good. I’ve just been working on that all day, the simulator—"

"Have you stopped at all today?" Tasha interrupted, moving her hand away so Patterson could finish filling her plate.

Patterson took a bite of food before answering. A muscle over her right eye spasmed. 

" _Star Wars_ fruit snacks at some point," she said around a mouthful of food. "I didn’t mean to work all day. I just... I need to figure this out and I dunno what I’m doing wrong. Nothing works."

Tasha didn’t respond while she ate her food. She knew that Patterson wasn’t actually done talking even though it seemed like she was. If she just gave her a few more seconds...

"It’s driving me crazy," Patterson continued. She set her fork down and ran a hand over her forehead, pushing her hair back. The headache that had been camped out for most of the day had returned. Time for another dose of aspirin. Her eye gave another twitch. "The ZIP is progressing and I don’t see anything on those stupid drives Roman left behind that can help."

Tasha set her fork and spoon down finally and pushed her plate away. She clasped her hands and leaned forward on the table towards Patterson.

"Has something happened?"

Patterson stared at Tasha for a minute and then realized that she hadn’t seen Tasha since she’d tossed a banana in her bag sometime around 6 a.m., grabbed her keys, and kissed her goodbye. So much had happened in the last 13 hours. Where to even begin explaining. She snuck a quick glance at her watch and shoved another forkful of pad khing in her mouth as the muscle over her eye gave another twitch. 

"You don’t know?"

Tasha shook her head and furrowed her head. "Know what? I’ve been in meetings with the CIA all day. We’re rehashing Shepherd’s death over and over and over again. She’s more trouble dead than she was alive. What’s happening, Patterson?"

"Oh Jesus," Patterson said, setting her fork down and shoving the plate away. "You don’t know. Jane... Remi... they took her to the hospital this morning. She’s gone blind. The ZIP is approaching her brain stem and if it gets there..." she trailed off and let Tasha draw her own conclusion. 

"But she’s alive?"

"For now."

The gravity of the situation hit Patterson then and she pushed her chair noisily away from the table and sprang to her feet, dinner and company forgotten. She pushed her hair away from her face and moved quickly back to her computer. She started typing loudly and rapidly on her computer. Tasha pushed away from the table and walked over to where Patterson was now mumbling to herself. She put both of her hands over Patterson’s as she typed and forced her to stop. She gripped her shoulders and spun her around to face her. 

"Stop, cariño," she said quietly, her hands dropping from Patterson’s shoulders and down her arms. "You’re not a doctor."

Anger flashed across Patterson’s face and she recoiled as if she had just been slapped. No, she wasn’t a doctor but she was the person perhaps most familiar with Jane’s condition and each of the treatments that Roman had tried unsuccessfully on himself. She took a deep breath and considered her words. 

"I didn’t mean it to come out like that," Tasha hurried on. She took Patterson’s hands and kissed them both. "I just mean, look at you. You’re exhausted. This is the first thing you’ve eaten since... when did you toss back a handful of fruit snacks? You have to stop. I know this is important but so are you. Please, Patterson. Just take a break. Let’s go home. You can start fresh tomorrow."

Patterson shook her head rapidly. 

"No, Tasha," she said, fixing her fiancé with a stare. "I can’t just take a break and go home. I need to figure this out. Please understand that."

Tasha didn’t respond but let go of Patterson’s hands. A sad frown formed on her face. After a second of silence Patterson turned back to her computer, her eyes flicking quickly back and forth across several lines of code she had written. She reached out to the keyboard and pressed down on the delete key. She knew it wouldn’t work. There had to be something she was missing. She navigated back to the most recent data cache dump and scrolled through the information. Roman had been nearly fixated on stem cells. 

 _Stem cells_ , Patterson thought as she continued scrolling.  _Ironic considering_ _ZIP_ _is heading towards her brain stem._

Tasha hesitated behind Patterson for a long moment and watched her work. She finally sighed and returned to the table where their food was getting cold. She began closing cartons. 

"What are you doing?" Patterson asked when she heard the rustle of the paper bag. 

Tasha shrugged. 

"Packing up," she replied. "What does it look like? I’m in your way so I’m gonna get out of it. I’ll be home waiting for you."

Patterson hesitated at her computer for a second, watching Tasha closing the lids on the containers she’d only finished setting out a few minutes earlier. She couldn’t help but feel guilty. It’d been sweet of Tasha to bring dinner and she was hungry. It was her own frustrations that were causing the problems. She glanced down at her screen again and then hurried over to Tasha.

"No," she said, putting a hand on Tasha’s to stop her progress. "Please. Don’t pack. Stay. I’ll eat and smile and take a few minutes. I’m sorry. I’m just.... I'm frustrated. Don’t leave. Please?"

Tasha chewed her lower lip for a minute before finally giving her fiancé a single nod as she began removing containers from the bag again. Patterson sat back down and forced a smile as Tasha finished setting their dinner back up. 

"I’m sorry," Patterson apologized again, picking at her food. 

"It’s okay."

"No, it’s not. I’m really sorry. I just... I—"

"Patterson, I get it," Tasha interrupted. "Stop apologizing. I just worry about you. You’re working too hard."

They continued to eat in silence for a moment until Patterson set down her fork and spoon. She waited for Tasha to look up again before speaking. 

"This is important, Tash," she said quietly as she blinked hard, her eye twitching again. "I know how you feel about Jane and  _Remi_  but no one knows what to do for her. The doctors? They’re trying but no one has ever seen this. Jane’s case is just as unique as it was when she climbed out of that bag in Times Square. I hate to say it but Roman’s data caches are the only edge we’ve got. If we can’t figure something out... Jane could die."

"I know."

The silence fell between them again. There was nothing Tasha could say. She understood how important Patterson’s work was. Her dedication to her job was one of the things she loved about her, and she was confident that if there was a solution to be found, Patterson would find it. 

"Roman’s drives are making me crazy," Patterson admitted. "I’ve been through them hundreds of times. I’ve had  _Rich_  go through them. Afreen. Briana.  _Everyone_  has looked at them. Why would he send us out on a scavenger hunt if there was no hope?"

"Because it’s Roman," Tasha replied. "Maybe... maybe it was his last way to get back at Jane. They weren’t exactly building bridges together."

"Maybe."

Patterson stopped her spoon halfway to her mouth, furrowed her brow, and twisted her lips. 

_Bridges_ , she thought, her mind fixating on Tasha’s turn of phrase. She let the utensil drop back to her dish. She shot to her feet and dashed to her computer. 

"Ohmygod," she said, the words rushing together. "I think..."

She didn’t finish her sentence and her fingers flew over the keyboard. She pounded away at the keys for a minute and then took a step back as she reread her work. Patterson tapped the enter key finally and let the simulation run. 

"DAMMIT!" Patterson yelled, slamming a fist down on the desk. She felt herself starting to lose control but was powerless to stop it. "I don’t understand. I don’t get it. Nothing works. Everything I try... nothing. And Jane’s gonna die and I can’t help."

Tears began to flow down her face and she dropped into her desk chair. Her body shook as sobs wracked through her. Patterson fisted a hand into her hair as she leaned forward and rested her forehead on her desk. She let out another scream of anger and frustration. Tasha rushed to her side and wrapped her arms around Patterson, forcing her back into a sitting position. She’d never Patterson quite like this. Even after David’s murder, Patterson had turned stoic, crying silently but she’d never exploded like this. Her heart hurt as Patterson sobbed in her arms. 

"Tash," Patterson whispered into Tasha’s neck as she tightened her own grip on the Latina's shoulders. "I don’t know how to save her."

Another loud, despairing sob escaped from Patterson and Tasha hugged her tighter, rubbing her back in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. 

"It’s okay," Tasha whispered back, kissing her on the cheek as she rocked her back and forth gently. "It’s okay. Everything will be fine. We’ll think of something."

Patterson pulled back from Tasha and shook her head back and forth in disagreement until Tasha reached out and caught the other woman’s face between both of her hands, stilling her. 

"Stop, Patterson," Tasha said sharply. "Stop. You’re going to make yourself sick. Let’s call Rich in and have him spend some time on this. I think you need to step away from it for a few minutes. You’re exhausted. You’re not thinking clearly."

"I’m fine," Patterson replied, her sobs coming to a near abrupt stop as she returned to her keyboard. Her eye gave another series of twitches and she clapped a hand over it to try to force the muscle to relax. "Really. I just need to try again."

Her fingers ran over the keyboard as she stood in front of her desk, kicking the chair across the room. It rolled noisily on its casters until it banged into another desk. Patterson was making many more typos than normal. She leaned towards her computer and Tasha thought she saw a little unsteadiness there. Patterson’s body swayed to the left and then the right.

"Tash? Can you grab my chair? I think I need to..." Her words trailed off as she fell to the floor. 

***

 _All hospitals have that same smell,_  Tasha decided as she hurried through the corridors following the instructions the nurse at the check-in desk had given her.  _Sickness and death._ She’d spent enough time in hospitals over the last year to call herself an expert in hospital smells. Not that it was something to be proud of. Nevertheless, in addition to her knowledge of smells she’d also developed something of a sixth sense in navigating the labyrinth of hospital hallways. The door to Patterson’s room was just ahead of her and she picked up the pace, rushing towards the closed door. 

"Stop," a woman’s voice called out to her as she approached. "I’m afraid there’s no visitors allowed."

Tasha stopped dead in her tracks and turned around looking for the source of the voice. A nurse with a clipboard was approaching from the far end of the hall. 

"Excuse me?" Tasha asked, trying to keep her temper in check. She was still seething over the way the EMS crew had treated her, refusing to let her ride to the hospital and barely telling her anything. Her fiancé had been taken to the hospital after collapsing in her lab and Tasha was in the dark. She was certain Patterson had collapsed from exhaustion and now she blamed herself for not spotting the signs sooner. Patterson had been working herself to death. 

"The patient in there," the nurse consulted her clipboard, "W —"

"Patterson," Tasha interrupted.

The nurse nodded. 

"Patterson. She’s not allowed visitors at this time."

"I’m not a visitor," Tasha said. "Patterson’s my girlfr- fiancé."

The nurse shrugged and started to continue down the hallway. "I’m sorry. Doctor’s orders. Your fiancé is suffering from exhaustion. She needs peace and quiet. No visitors. "

Tasha stepped in front of the nurse.

"I don’t care," she said slowly. "I’ll do what I damn well like.  I want to see her."

Another shake of the nurse’s head. 

"I’m sorry," she repeated. "I can’t let you in there. Please don’t make me call security"

Tasha grabbed at the CIA ID tag clipped to her blazer. She yanked it off and held it in front of the nurse’s face so closely it almost hit her in the nose.

"Go ahead," she said, her voice rising to a near shout. She dug through her purse for her badge wallet and snapped it open, the gold CIA badge glistening under the fluorescent lighting. "I am CIA. I dare you. I  _double_ dare you. I just want to see my fiancé." 

Reade, Rich, and Weller heard Tasha’s voice as they rounded the corner, and they exchanged a concerned look. It sounded like Tasha had beaten them to Patterson's room and was giving some poor unsuspecting nurse a run for her money. They quickened their pace and hurried in the direction of Tasha’s voice. Weller reached Tasha first and put a hand on her shoulder, gently turning her towards him. 

"Hey, Tasha," he said calmly. "Is Patterson okay? What have you found out?"

 Tasha sighed and shook her head. Annoyance flashed across her face. She pointed a finger at the nurse who cringed and took a step backwards.

"Nothing! This  _woman_  won’t tell me anything! And she won’t let me in to see her."

"She’s resting," the nurse explained, looking to Weller, Rich, and Reade. "No visitors. I’m sorry."

Reade looked at the nurse and gave her a sympathetic smile. "It’s okay. You’re just doing your job. We’ll take care of Tasha. If you see Patterson’s doctor, though...?"

"I’ll send him your way."

"Thanks," Reade said as the nurse hurried off. 

Weller directed Tasha towards some chairs in a waiting area and sat beside her. 

"Reade, Rich? Wanna see if you can find a doctor? I’ll stay with Tasha."

Reade nodded and gestured for Rich to follow him. The other two agents disappeared down the hallway. Neither Weller nor Tasha said anything for a minute and Tasha’s right hand found her left. She turned her engagement ring nervously on her finger as she stared straight ahead. Logically she knew Patterson would be okay. She was exhausted - it had been written all over her face – and she’d collapsed. She’d be fine. It didn’t make it any easier.  She wished she’d been able to do something. 

Weller cleared his throat and finally looked over at Tasha. 

"What you said to that nurse," he began. "Is it true? Are you and Patterson engaged?"

Tasha held out her left hand to show Weller the diamond Patterson had given her. She gave a nod and a small smile. 

"Yeah," she said, the annoyance gone from her voice. "She has one, too. I asked her right after Remi escaped."

Weller gave a short nod but didn’t say anything. Tasha continued on.

"When I found Patterson on the floor in Interrogation... the idea of losing her scared me," she admitted. "I just want to hold onto her forever. So I asked her."

"And Patterson had a ring for you, too?"

Tasha nodded. "Yeah," she said. "She’d planned to ask me but after seeing her hurt again, I didn’t want to wait anymore. I worry about her, ya know? I don’t want to lose her."

Weller nodded. He knew exactly what she meant. Jane’s face flashed in his mind and he tightened his jaw. She was in a hospital bed just a few corridors away. Unlike Patterson, it wasn’t as simple as exhaustion. There was a real chance he could lose her. 

"I know exactly what you mean."


	26. Chapter 26

Tasha dropped a heavy file box on the floor just inside the door to the lab and grabbed the edge of a nearby table. She dragged it loudly across the floor and came to a stop next to Patterson’s desk. By some strange fortune of luck, she’d managed to get out of the apartment and to the NYO before Patterson had even gotten out of bed. It was no easy task slipping out without waking her, but Tasha was feeling pretty proud of herself for accomplishing this mission. If Patterson had caught wind of her plan, they’d probably have gotten into an argument and she’d still be at home pleading her case. 

She picked the box back up, set it on her new workspace, and began emptying its contents into various piles. This wasn’t quite ideal, but it was the only thing she could think of to assure herself that Patterson would take breaks throughout the day. If she was nearby, Tasha hoped she could help prevent another mini-meltdown. She glanced at her watch and took a deep breath as she grabbed for a chair to complete her makeshift desk. Patterson would be arriving any minute.

*** 

Patterson saw the lights on in the lab as soon as she stepped off the elevator. She switched her coffee cup into her right hand and  

_If I hadn’t been forced to take yesterday off_ , she thought bitterly as she headed towards the lab. She’d been kept in the hospital for 24 hours before the doctors released her to Tasha with bed rest orders for the next 24 hours. Tasha had taken those orders seriously, too. She’d stubbornly refused to let Patterson leave bed for anything other than to use the bathroom, and she'd waited on her hand and foot. Truth be told, Patterson needed the rest, but Tasha’s attention felt smothering. She was thrilled to return to work and get just an inch of space to breathe. 

She rounded the corner into the lab and froze. The lights were on but they hadn’t been all night. Tasha was sitting at a table, head down, and working her way through a stack of paperwork. 

"Good morning," Patterson said pleasantly. She pasted on a smile and headed towards her own desk. So much for that inch of space. She raised an eyebrow at Tasha. "Lost?"

Tasha looked up slowly and flashed a smile. She shook her head. 

"You know, I was thinking that we don’t spend any time together lately," she said. "I’m stuck at a desk or in meetings at the CIA or out in SIOC. You’re here all day. I go home; you’re not there. Now we can see each other over this mountain of paperwork."

"Lies," Patterson said good naturedly but her smile was gone. She set her coffee cup down and approached Tasha’s "desk." She didn’t have far to go. She could literally reach over and tap her on the shoulder without even leaving her chair. "You’re here to babysit."

Tasha feigned surprise and hurt. She let her smile fall and waited for Patterson to say more but when she didn’t, she dropped the act. 

"Okay, fine," she said. "I’m here to keep an eye on you."

"You mean babysit."

"No," Tasha insisted. "I just wanna keep you out of the hospital for five minutes. I’m tired of visiting you there."

Patterson shook her head and frowned. 

"Dammit, Tasha, you can’t just sit here and watch me work all day," she said. Her voice was thick with annoyance.

"First of all," Tasha said, ticking each point off on her fingers, "Reade said I could. Second of all, I have work to do. I’m not gonna sit here and stare at you all day, tempting as  _that_ is. I’ll just feel better if I’m here. Okay?"

Patterson crossed her arms and studied Tasha’s face. She wanted to argue this with her but the look on the brunette’s face told her everything she needed to know: there would be no argument. She sighed and dropped her arms back to her sides in defeat.

"Fine," she said. "Sit there. I have work to do, too."

"Good," Tasha said. She looked back down to the stack of paperwork in front of her and snatched her pen up. Patterson didn’t walk away and she felt the scientist’s eyes on her. She glanced back up as she scrawled her signature across the bottom line of a form. "Was there something else?"

"You’re really just gonna sit there and work?"

"Uh huh."

Patterson bit her lip for a second before turning back to her desk. She scooped her coffee cup up and took a swallow before booting up her computer.  She cast a wary glance over her shoulder at Tasha as she waited for the Jane simulator to load. The agent was still working and seemed legitimately busy. 

"Stop looking at me," Tasha said without looking up. "Go do your job."

***

The lab was completely silent except for the sound of Patterson’s fingers on her keyboard. She punched the keys rapidly, seeming to hit them harder and faster the longer she typed. Tasha heard her keystrokes even before she walked back into the lab, a bag of pastries and a tray of coffee in her hands. 

"Break time!" she called as she set the bag and tray down on her desk. "Come on, P. I’ve got all your favorites. Sit with me."

Patterson didn’t look away from her computer and kept typing. 

"Yup. K. Five minutes," she said absently. 

Tasha rolled her eyes and sighed. She opened the bag of pastries and carried them over to Patterson. She swung the bag slightly in front of her face, letting the smell of the freshly baked sweets waft out. 

"Okay," she sang. "Don’t wait too long. Rich saw me carrying them in."

"Yes, he did," Rich said, hurrying into the lab and stopping just short of Tasha’s makeshift desk. He grabbed for one of the coffees on the tray. "Have we done a little redecorating? The Feng Shui in here is all wrong."

Patterson finally looked up and saw the breakfast buffet Tasha had assembled. Her eyes fell on the logo of Arcade Bakery on the cups before she saw the dozen different pastries Tasha was setting out. She noticed that Rich was hovering over the baked goods, taking inventory of the selection, and she stopped typing. She brushed her hair over her shoulder and walked over. 

"Back off, Rich," she said and then turned her attention to Tasha. "You didn’t go out just to get all of these so I’d be forced to take a break, did you?"

"Maybe."

Patterson leaned in and kissed Tasha lightly on the lips. 

"What was that for?" Tasha asked when they separated. "Not that I’m complaining or anything." 

"Just a thank you," Patterson said and winked. She reached a hand out and smacked Rich’s hand away. He’d been in mid-reach for a scone. "Rich!"

"What? I’m hungry!" Rich replied impatiently. "And you’re just over there playing kissy-face. People need to eat!"

Tasha reached back into the bag of pastries and pulled out an oversized elephant ear. She held it out to Patterson with a grin. 

"I put this aside for you," she said and tossed a pointed look towards Rich who was now munching away on the scone he’d been reaching for. "I figured the vultures would start circling and I wanted you to get your favorite."

Rich was in mid-bite when he spotted the reserved pastry.

"Hey!" he said around a mouthful of scone. "You were holding out on me!"

"She’s not marrying  _you_ ," Patterson replied before giving Tasha another kiss. "Thank you. You’re amazing."

"Know what’s amazing? This scone," Rich said. "Where did you get these? It’s light and buttery and freaking delicious. The things I could do to this scone..."

Tasha shrugged and looked away from Patterson. She picked up a cup of coffee and took a long swallow. 

"Arcade," she said. "Couple blocks away. We used to get stuff there all the time when Mayfair..." She trailed off and fell silent. Mayfair’s death had been so long ago but that wound still felt fresh. Tasha wondered if it’d ever fully heal. 

Neither Patterson nor Tasha spoke for a long time as they sat drinking coffee and eating pastries. Tasha’s mind had wandered back to Mayfair and all of the lessons she’d taught her while Rich carried on a one-sided conversation that he didn’t realize was actually one-sided. Patterson was watching Tasha but she was thinking back to the night she’d collapsed in the lab. They’d been sitting in almost the exact same place when Patterson had expressed her deep frustration with Roman and their inability to find a cure for Jane. Tasha had been right. Roman and Jane hadn’t exactly been building bridges of friendship and understanding. The data caches he’d left all over the world could have just been a wild goose chase with one goal: wasting Jane’s time. It’d be the ultimate payback for her injecting Roman with ZIP and cursing him with the poisoning that was now killing her. If he couldn’t cure himself, maybe he wasn’t willing to allow Jane to cure herself. They’d burned more bridges than they’d ever built. 

_Bridges_ , Patterson thought. The word echoed in her head. It had struck her when she’d heard Tasha say it the first time. There was something about it. Something more. She squinted her eyes as she thought and bit down on her bottom lip. _Roman and his infatuation with stem cells. Bridges._

She got up from her chair without saying a word and went back to her computer. She hit the delete key, and all of the work she’d been doing for the last two hours disappeared from her screen. Her fingers danced across the keys as she entered in something new. 

"Patterson, you’re supposed to be taking a break," Tasha said when she noticed that the blonde had gotten up. "That’s not a break."

Patterson shook her head and glanced up over the top of her monitor at Tasha. 

"Yeah, I know," she said. "I’ve gotta try something. I have an idea."

Tasha started to protest but Patterson was no longer listening. She was back at work, entering in a string of commands. She took a deep breath and hit the enter key, allowing the Jane simulator to run. The simulator hesitated for what felt like an eternity as it processed the data and then gave out a series of beeps. The broken synapses of Jane’s brain in the simulator began to reconnect, dying neurons that had been a displayed as a brilliant red began to turn blue. 

"Holy shit," Patterson breathed. She couldn’t look away from the screen but raised a hand to beckon Tasha and Rich over. "Guys. Rich. I need you to take a look at this."

"Hang on," Rich said, finishing off his scone.  "I’m about to round third base with this delicious scone."

"Now, Rich," Patterson said flatly. "Now."

Rich and Tasha exchanged a look before getting out of their chairs and joining Patterson at her desk. The simulation of Jane’s brain had turned completely blue and Rich pointed at the screen. 

"What the —?"

"Check my math, Rich," Patterson said barely able to contain the excitement in her voice. "Now. Check my math. This can’t be right. I did not just figure this out."

Rich shooed Patterson away from her computer and took her place. He stopped the simulation and changed the screen to show the lines of code Patterson had used.

"Well?" Patterson asked.

"Shhh!" Rich replied. He didn’t look away from the computer but his eyes flicked rapidly over each piece of code. 

"Well?" Patterson repeated.

"Shhh! Uncle Rich needs to focus and he can’t do that with you yammering," he replied, glancing up from the screen.

He reached out and tapped a few keys and then hit enter. The simulation ran again; red turned to blue. 

"I don’t believe it, Patty," Rich said quietly. "I think you’ve done it."

***

Weller made the trip from the hospital back to the NYO in record time. He’d broken at least three different laws but Patterson said it was urgent.  He’d tried to put her off but then Reade texted followed by Tasha and eventually Rich. It was important. Part of him hoped the urgency meant that Patterson had finally found a cure. The realistic part of him was resigned to the fact that his wife was dying. And it could happen soon. Every minute that ticked by was met with uncertainty. Leaving her bedside now meant one less minute he could spend with her – even if she wasn’t conscious and when she was, she couldn't see, could barely hear, and had no idea who he was.

"Tell me you have news," he said as he barreled into the lab and rushed over to where Patterson and Rich were hunched over a computer. 

Patterson glanced at her watch. She’d only reached out to Weller 15 minutes earlier. It was at least a 25-minute drive from Bellevue when there was no traffic. She was mildly impressed. 

"Calm down," she said. "Take a breath."

Rich shook his head. "Just tell him! This is great news. Tell him!"

Weller looked from Rich to Patterson. His gaze flicked over to Reade and Tasha who both gave him slight nods. 

"Patterson," Weller said impatiently. "Please. What is it?"

Patterson walked over to the wall-mounted monitors with her tablet in hand. She cued up the Jane simulator. 

"Okay," she began. "First of all, I’m totally not a doctor. I’m probably not qualified to make any of these assessments or whatever but I think I’ve figured something out."

Rich rolled his eyes. The excitement was plain on his face. 

"Oh please. She ‘thinks’ she’s figured something out. This is good. Not as brilliant as something I might have come up with but —"

"Rich!" Tasha yelled. When he stopped and looked at her, she dropped her voice back down to its normal tone. "Shut up. Let Patterson talk."

"Sorry," he said. "I just get so excited."

"Anyway," Patterson continued, drawing the word out slowly. "I’ve been thinking about what Roman left us on his drives. Most of it seems completely useless but he’s completely focused on some stem cell research that, I mean, for the most part just didn’t work. The technology just isn’t there. But before my little  _incident_ , Tasha said something that got me thinking. She said that Roman and Jane weren’t exactly ‘building bridges.’ She’s right. I mean, that’s not the answer but it got me the rest of the way there. The stem cell technology Roman was interested in was failing because the cells that were injected during trials weren’t targeting the right areas. We need to build  _bridges_  between neurons to repair the damage and maybe reverse some of it. So, I tried this."

She tapped on her tablet for a second and the most recent scan of Jane’s brain filled the monitors. Red indicated all of the places that ZIP had done damage. Most of her brain was red. She waited for everyone to take in the model and then tapped again, starting the simulation. They watched as the screen started to turn from red to blue. 

"Wait," Weller said abruptly. "This will work?"

Patterson didn’t respond immediately. She set her tablet back down and then gave a small shrug. 

"I can’t promise that," she said. "All I’m saying is this might work.  _Might_. It also might not work. I’m not qualified to make that decision or to do any of the actual work. I ran a simulation. It seems to show that it might work but... I’m not a doctor, Kurt."

"If it does work, will it..." Weller searched for the right words, "will it cure her?"

"I don’t know," Patterson said. She continued on quickly. "It’s Jane. I don’t want to raise anyone’s hopes. But, I think, maybe, if it does work, we’ll get Jane back. If I’m right, it should reverse the effects of the ZIP."

Weller started to interrupt but Patterson raised a hand to silence him. She fixed the group with a serious stare. 

"If it doesn’t work,though, it could kill her."

No one spoke but all eyes fell on Weller as he considered what Patterson had just said. He seemed to be having a mental battle with himself. On one hand, Jane was no longer Jane. She hadn’t been Jane in months. And she was already dying. The ZIP was killing her. There was no telling how much time she had left, and she may never return to being Jane. On the other hand, the solution Patterson presented was risky. There was little research backing it up, just some notes from Roman and Patterson’s own leaps that she’d run through a simulator. A simulator that she’d written herself. There was a lot of room for error. If Patterson was right, though, this could be the cure they’d been waiting for. 

"We have to try," Weller said finally. "Even if it’s a one percent chance that it works, we have to try. I don’t want to lose her. I’m not ready for that."

Tasha grabbed Weller’s hand and gave it a friendly reassuring squeeze as Patterson gave a single nod. 

"Okay, then let me gather everything up and we’ll go to the hospital. I can present my findings and we’ll take our shot."

***

Reade, Tasha, Patterson, and Rich were relegated to a waiting area outside of Jane’s room. A doctor had been by to update them but now it was just a matter of waiting. Weller sat alone in Jane’s room, his eyes never leaving her face. The steady beeping of the cardiac monitor filled the room. He was glad for the steadiness of the monitor. It was one less thing to worry about – at least the treatment hadn’t instantly killed her. 

_We just have to wait._

The doctor’s words had lost all meaning. That’s all Weller had been doing since Jane had been admitted. He’d sat and waited. He’d waited for a possible cure. He’d waited for specialists. He’d waited for her to return to being Jane. Eventually he’d begun to wait for her death. It’d seemed inevitable. Now he sat holding her hand and watching her face for the slightest twitch. He wasn’t ready to let go of her yet. 

He held his head with his free hand and closed his eyes. The doctors told him the same thing Patterson had. She’d been so cautious with her wording but the specialists working Jane’s case had spoken more plainly. The stem cell treatment might work but it could be temporary. There was no guarantees. They urged him to prepare to say goodbye to his wife and make plans for the next step.  

There was no next step as far as Kurt was concerned. It was the success of this treatment or he’d lose his wife. He blinked back a tear at the thought of it. He felt pressure on his hand and glanced down. Jane’s hand was in his own and it’d never seemed smaller or weaker. It almost felt like she was squeezing his hand. He shook his head to throw that thought out. Jane was unconscious. 

"Kurt."

Weller heard his wife’s voice and his heart skipped. He looked up slowly from their joined hands.

Jane’s eyes were barely open but she was watching him carefully.  

"Jane?"

Jane nodded. "I can see. No headaches," she said. "And 

_Weller didn’t reply immediately. Disbelief slowly was replaced by elation and he squeezed her hand._

__

__

"I have to find a doctor," she said, getting up. He gave her a broad smile. "Jane?"

Jane smiled back at him. "I’m back."


End file.
